


greater than the sky

by nefertiti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dad Bahorel, Dad Grantaire, Kid Fic, M/M, Mentions of Past Drug and Alcohol Addiction, Single Parents, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefertiti/pseuds/nefertiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire was twenty one, a high school drop out, the single father of a toddler and living on minimum wage. He didn’t have the time, the energy or the luxury to fall in love with someone who was by all means ready to take change by the hand and singlehandedly navigate it through the world. Someone who by all logic would loathe the idea of being tied down the way that Grantaire was. But fate hadn’t really taken any of Grantaire’s plans into consideration thus far before casting her spells as she saw fit. Why on earth would that start changing now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Grantaire was exhausted. It wasn’t the bad kind of exhaustion that came from staying up all night partying. It was the kind that came from a long day’s work. The kind where your bones pleasantly ache and you long to just sit in front of the television and watch something mindless so that you don’t have to think. When he opened the door to his flat however, it was obvious that Bahorel had different plans given that he was sitting in the middle of Grantaire’s living room with three tiny, rapt pairs of eyes on him as he told a story involving a lot of hand gesticulations and fake explosion sounds. Bahorel really was a child at heart because he seemed to be enjoying it more than the children were.

Belle, the minute she saw Grantaire, stumbled her way to his side and threw her arms around his knees. He stumbled slightly but he lifted her into his arms with a weary smile.

“Did Uncle Bahorel bore you all evening duckling?”

“No!” she said with an almost reproachful glare and then continued in her adorable lisp. She was still pronouncing _r’s_ as _w’s_ to Grantaire’s eternal delight.“Unca Bahorel’s telling us _stories_ Papa!”

“See.” Bahorel said with a triumphant smirk. “Uncle Bahorel is telling _stories_.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes but he let her down, properly chastened and she was already on her way back over to Aiden and Gavroche when Grantaire said, “Well Uncle Bahorel’s going to keep telling stories while Papa takes a shower okay?”

“Yes, yes. Stop boring the children Grantaire-” Bahorel started. Aiden and Gavroche next to him looked horrified at the thought of Grantaire continuing with his dull quips and Bahorel not being able to continue his story that most likely involved carnage and other things children their age really shouldn’t hear about.

“Are you included in that group?” Grantaire mused ignoring Gavroche’s groan.

“-I’m telling stories.” Bahorel continued over Grantaire and Aiden nodded his approval eagerly.

Bahorel really did tell the best stories. Grantaire was good at bedtime stories that he would continue for night upon night like a Scheherazade under the ownership a much cuter, much kinder much more highly adored companion. However, stories that kept you up and alert, involving explosions and adventure and other such tales of excitement that Grantaire still wasn’t sure was all that appropriate for children, that was all Bahorel.

Grantaire still thought it was strange the way he and Bahorel had settled into fatherhood so naturally. He still remembered the day when Bahorel had come to him and Eponine his first year at the university with the news that his ex-girlfriend Camille arrived at his parents’ house with a baby in a cradle and told him that she didn’t want it, and if Bahorel did, it would be his concern. Bahorel didn’t even do that much soul searching before he decided to keep Aiden, to the surprise of almost everyone around him. (Everyone except for the people who knew him best of course) Bahorel was always more fun loving than he was responsible and more of a slacker than he was a caregiver, but when the time called for it he was more than capable of stepping up to any challenge given to him.

Bahorel got Camille to sign over her rights to Bahorel a few months later and just like that Aiden was his. Bahorel’s parents were pleased to have a grandchild, even though Bahorel was as young as he was. They helped him in any way that they could, with money, paying his rent and grocery bills, with voluntarily babysitting whenever Bahorel asked all of which increased the first year after he decided to stay to Paris and continue going to university when they moved back to Bordeaux.  He had the help of Eponine and Grantaire when it came to babysitting as well of course, but he had still relied on his parents heavily for the first two years until he dropped out.

(Bahorel and Eponine used to joke about how they had all come into parenthood at the same age, though granted not at the same time or for the same reasons.)

Grantaire was less lucky when it came to his parents’ acceptance in that he did not have it at all, which was fine with him because it meant that he didn’t feel in any way obligated to let them meet his daughter or even know her name.

Grantaire went to his room and he looked at his bed longingly. He could just lie there for five seconds. A moment. Less than a moment. He could lie there and take a tiny nap. _Bahorel was more than capable with handling the kids_. He thought to himself, but he dismissed the idea when he heard the pealing bells of laughter from his daughter’s mouth coming through the closed door.

When Bahorel had Aiden, Grantaire was the best godfather possible. He helped babysit when he was sober, he bought a bunch of useless shit that the kid would grow out of in month or two, he gave him his first piece of candy and did all the fun stuff the people who’re not responsible for the welfare of the child could do.

Spoiling a kid rotten, yeah he was all for that.

Fatherhood however? He had just never viewed it as a viable option for himself. He didn’t have the greatest role models when it came to parents and to subject an innocent child to someone so fucked in the head to be their father. For _him_ as a father? The thought used to make him feel wretched.

Of course all of that immediately flew out of the window the minute he saw her.

He remembers the first time he saw her face vividly, it replayed in his mind like a perfectly preserved home video as he stepped into the shower and let the hot water caress his skin. His bones started to relax under the water beating down upon him and he let his eyes close for a moment as he indulged in the hot massage.

He always thought it was a myth, that your entire world changed when you saw your child’s face for the first time, but he was wrong. It wasn’t a myth at all. She was perfect. She was beautiful. Belle. The only beautiful thing that could possibly ever come from him and he was smitten from the start.

He found himself in front of Eponine’s door that night, shivering with tears in his eyes and a tiny bundle held delicately in his muscled, overly tattooed arms and a diaper bag over his shoulder with a grimace on his face.

She guided them inside without a second thought. Gavroche and Azelma weren’t there that night so it was just Eponine there to listen to Grantaire’s fears and doubts and confusion. He was raised by an alcoholic and he knew what that did to a person. His kid had already lost her mother on the day that she was born. He didn’t want to- no he _couldn’t_ do that to his own daughter.

He used to think of himself as terribly selfish for the first year of Belle’s life. An only just recovering addict with mental health problems who had to drop out of high school to be the main caregiver, to be the _only_ caregiver to this little tot? She deserved better. Even from where he was now, sober for two and a half years and holding down a steady job, he still thought his kid deserved better.

He got out of the shower, dried his skin hastily and started getting dressed. His skin was still slightly damp but he didn’t care. He had dinner to make and time to spend with his daughter. It wasn’t even five and he knew that in less than four hours he would be fast asleep. It was funny really, because if five years ago he’d told himself this was what his life would look like when he was twenty one he would have probably decked himself in the face. Now he had adjusted to his life well enough.

Grantaire wasn’t usually this pensive every time he’d come home from work, if he was he would have gone mad ages ago. It was Belle’s birthday in just four months, she’s going to be three, and he had no idea how but every year she got older he felt like he’d aged an extra year _with_ her. By the time it was his birthday he always felt like twice his actual age. It brought up memories of his then girlfriend coming over and crying in his arms telling him that her life was over. Thinking about her still made Grantaire grow silent and morose.

He had decided against washing his hair so that by the time he’d stepped out of his room he was almost completely dry, which was a good thing because Belle, who was still at the age where she thought tumbling into people headfirst was only good manners, rushed to him and started yelling excitedly.

“Auntie Ponine’s here and she said we’re having pizza tonight!”

Grantaire took her chubby, little hand into his and shot a glare at Eponine who was now sitting next to Bahorel on the couch watching Aiden and Gavroche play something gory on the television, a controller each in their hand as they played their game eagerly. He didn’t even hear when she came in. “ _Did_ she?”

Eponine smiled at him unapologetically and Bahorel just shrugged and mouthed _“Whatcha gonna do?”_

“Uh huh.” Not noticing their interaction Belle continued animatedly as if she was telling Grantaire a story to rival Bahorel’s epic tale of what-the-hell-ever. “And I get to pick whatever topping I want too! She’s said I’m old enough to make those choices now.”

“Yes you’re a big lady now. You’re probably gonna move out and open up your own law firm in a year or two.” Grantaire swung Belle into his arms. He didn’t get to hold her properly when he had first come home so he took the opportunity to do so now. He nudged her ear with his nose, her dark, wild curls tickled under his nose and he felt like sneezing but it was all worth it for the way she squealed slightly, squirming in his arms. “But you’re still my little duck right?”

“Yes Papa.” Belle nuzzled happily into his warmth.

“Not that I actually want to break up this Hallmark moment, but I actually came here to talk to you R.” Eponine said, her voice full of mirth. 

“And what do you expect my dearest and darlingest daughter to do in the meanwhile hmmn? Without _my_ illustrious company?” Grantaire asked as Belle gladly nodded along. “You don’t think these things through Ep.”

And if Eponine thought that Grantaire was too busy to notice her tapping Gavroche on his back with her foot, she would be wrong. He clutched on to Belle tighter, this time for safety. Eponine looked like she had _things to discuss_ and an Eponine with _things to discuss_ was an Eponine you needed to run away from.

“You can come play with us Belle.” Gavroche said with a grumble, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“I’m pretty sure she’s probably too young for whatever that is.” Grantaire said with a frown looking at the television screen even as he let her down and she ran over to her friends.

“Yeah well no one in this room actually cares so...” Eponine said standing up and dragging a reluctant Bahorel up with her too. Bahorel ruffled Aiden’s hair before following Eponine to the kitchen and Grantaire sighed before following them too.

“Thanks a lot Ep. She’ll be up half the night if she gets any soft drink in her this late.” Grantaire said as he leaned up against the counter and looked into the eyes of his friends standing opposite him with slightly solemn, mostly vaguely concerned looks on their faces. Grantaire knew them both better than that. This quiet calm was a ruse to lure him in so that when they attacked he wouldn’t know what hit him.

“Then she’ll have water instead of coke.” Eponine said with a shrug as if it was that simple. “Julien called me today.”

Grantaire winced. There it was. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”  She said fixing him with a glower. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Stop forcing dates on me when I’m obviously _not_ into the idea of introducing my kid to the weirdos that I typically tend to be into?” Grantaire tried with a smirk that looked as false as his words.

Bahorel chuckled and Eponine turned her glare to him.

“Hey I’m just-” He started defending himself. “R’s the one on trial here. He blew Julien off! Bad, bad Grantaire.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all but apparently it was enough to get Eponine to focus her attention on him again. “You and I both know Grantaire, that I don’t give a shit about you dating anyone.”

She ignored his weak cry of “Language!” and continued on. “What I _do_ care about is you having friends. People outside of me and Bahorel that you can rely on.”

“What’s wrong with you and Bahorel?” Grantaire asked folding his arms. “I’ve done pretty fine with just you both.”

Eponine’s glare hardened and Grantaire was pretty sure she was going to punch him in the gut when he felt her arms wrap around him, squeezing him tightly. He huffed a breath and ignored the ache in his side. Eponine was fucking stronger than she looked.

“Nothing’s wrong with having other friends Grantaire. We’re fucking perfect but we’re just two people. You can’t keep isolating yourself out of guilt or shame or whatever this is.” She said sadly, her face buried in his chest. “You and Belle both deserve better.”

It wasn’t even that Grantaire was actively _trying_ to isolate himself from people. He was just wary and mistrustful of most people. It took a lot for Grantaire to allow you into Belle’s life and given that Belle’s life was also Grantaire’s life, it left him alone more often than not.

When Eponine had set him up with her friend Julien, Grantaire was an asshole on purpose just so he wouldn’t have to go through the entire practice of introducing him to his daughter and having him freak out over the fact that Grantaire had a kid or awkwardly excuse himself and never come back, or even worse having him meet Belle only to find out that Belle didn’t like him or vice versa. Julien had stormed off and Grantaire felt bad about it after, but it was better in the long run. He had tried dating once or twice when Belle was only one and he would never make that mistake again. Belle was his main concern now, no one else got to have the luxury of taking up all of his time outside of her.

Grantaire detangled himself from Eponine and patted her on the waist. “I’ll try again if you want me to, but it’s a bad idea.”

“Look.” Eponine said calmly as she straightened her clothes. “Maybe I’m an asshole for trying to get you to date when you don’t want to, but can you at least consider it.”

“I’ll _consider_ making new friends Ep _if I have the time_ , which you know I don’t right now. That’s all I can promise right now.”

“Good. I’m going to hold you to that.”

It was then that the delivery guy came with two boxes of pizza and a 20 oz. and the three of them scrambled to the door, almost falling on top of each other, before Gavroche could let the man in and invite him to stay for dinner like he did the last time and the time before that...and the time before that.

They spent the rest of the hour eating while Aiden clung to Bahorel’s foot and Belle and Gavroche alternated between eating their slice and trying to virtually destroy each other while Bahorel kept refilling their cups. They then proceeded to play an hour long game of hide and seek in Grantaire’s flat which really didn’t have that many hiding places. That however, didn’t stop them from running about the place ignoring their parents’ warning to not go running about so soon after they just ate much to Grantaire and Bahorel’s dismay. By the time it was 7 o’ clock, Aiden was dozing on Bahorel’s shoulder and Eponine was pulling Gavroche away from below the kitchen counter so that they could leave. Belle wasn’t quite dozing yet, but her eyes were blinking open and close, staying much longer on the closed than on the open.

When Grantaire had bathed his daughter and tucked her in, he sat there stroking her hair for a minute or two until she fell asleep before going to his own room and opening his sketchbook and attempting to draw. Everything Eponine had told him flew away from his thoughts as the pencil hit the paper, and by the time his head found the pillow he’d almost forgotten everything they talked about in favour of blessed sleep.

 

The next morning Grantaire silently cursed Bahorel and Eponine as he blearily rolled out of bed with the beginnings of a headache. Belle had woken up three different times in the night with nightmares and the last time Grantaire went to check on her he ended up letting her crawl into bed with him. She tossed and turned the rest of the night and Grantaire slept as fretfully as she did. He was never able to sleep well when he knew Belle wasn’t okay. Now that Grantaire thought about it properly, he also decided to curse the existence of processed sugar as he packed Belle’s lunchbox. He made sure to involve an apple instead of a snack like he usually would. Belle had a tendency for the histrionic when she was on a sugar high and he didn’t think he could take a double dose of that in one week.

Every morning was different with Belle. Not that his mornings had much stability before her. But when your morning involves a tiny, little girl who didn’t seem like she was planning on growing out of her terrible twos anytime soon, you learned to cope with the unknown. This morning she was even more trouble to get up than usual. She clung to the pillow even as Grantaire tickled her stomach the way she liked. By the time they had eaten and were both dressed and ready they were both miserable and she was late for kindergarten. Still he forced a smile as he lifted her in his arms and hurried downstairs and locked her safely in the child safety carrier.

He was never really one for driving until he had Belle. Until then he took the bus everywhere. Riding in public transit was so much faster than dealing with 7am traffic. With Belle however, having a car just became more convenient. When she was younger, every time they rode the bus she would become incredibly fussy and she’d start wailing and it would freak him out. He had the tendency to be ridiculously overprotective of Belle, single parent living in the city and all that so it was normal to be concerned every now and then. But he was also absurdly easy when it came to her. It was worse when she was younger. At the slightest hint of discomfort he would rush to her and try to figure out what was wrong and obliterate it from the earth. He’s tamed down since. He only ever sought to get whatever bothered her out of their sight. Eponine kept telling him that he would spoil her too rotten and then he’d have to deal with her when she was a preteen who thought she could get her way with everything.

He glanced at her in the backseat, looking like a little angel and he couldn’t even imagine it.

 

Belle’s day care teacher was scared of Grantaire the first time she saw him although she’d never admit it now. Now she smiled at him genially before taking Belle out of his arms.

Grantaire could admit that he made an imposing figure before you got used to him. He had absolutely no idea what made Mabeuf hire him.

He was aware of how he looked. Most days, people who saw him with Belle looked like they were about a jump away from calling the police and reporting a kidnapping. His skin was brown. His muscles were well defined. He was tattooed all over. He had snakebites on his eyebrow, a septum piercing, a tongue piercing; his ears were plugged, although just moderately he never really ever went for the huge ones. His hair was generally always in untangled, untameable curls. He often had paint or charcoal on his clothes because he may never have gone to art school like he wanted to but that didn’t stop him from doing his art. He didn’t look like someone you’d want around your books far less to be your bookstore clerk, but the first day they met they had a long conversation about the merits of Tolkien as opposed to George RR Martin and Mabeuf hired him on the spot. He was strange like that.

He smiled at Grantaire this morning when he walked in and Grantaire returned it.

Mabeuf was the perfect employer. He was quiet most of the time and chatty whenever something he was reading caught his interest. He didn’t seem to care about profit. He preferred sitting all day in the backroom reading than actually attempting to sell anything and he paid Grantaire generously enough every fortnight like clockwork. It was the best deal a high school drop out with absolutely zero qualifications except having a good memory and being able to sprout out random facts at a hat’s drop could have managed.

Mabeuf was in the back by the time Bahorel came in at lunchtime. Grantaire looked up from the book he was reading with a nod.  It was a slow morning. “Hey man.”

“Dude I’m so fucking tired, I’m pretty sure I’ll pass out if I sit down.” Bahorel said, flopping down on the big armchair near the door anyway.

“Life as a delivery boy isn’t as glamorous as they promised it’d be then?” Grantaire replied sardonically.

He shut his book, he was almost finished with it anyway and Bahorel’s visits at his workplace tended to involve Bahorel talking about a trail of things Grantaire had to pay attention to to get what he was saying. Bahorel said it was a habit that he picked up from Grantaire, but Grantaire respectfully disagreed. (And by respectfully he meant he boxed him in the ear when he suggested it.)

“Haha fuck you.” Bahorel said cheerily.

“I don’t have any plans to.” Grantaire said, coming out from behind the counter and leaning against it. Bahorel took the chance to start looking through the shelves above him.

“Are we really starting on your masturbatory habits so early? I’ve just had lunch R. I’d like to keep that shit down.”

“Christ dude. My boss can hear you.” Grantaire said his tone of voice betraying his lack of care.

“As if Mabeuf gives a shit.” Bahorel rolled his eyes.

“Point taken.”

“Anyway I’m here for a reason.” Bahorel started again before Grantaire cut him off.

“A _reason_. Well this is the first time you’ve ever come to see me for a _reason_.” Grantaire smiled insolently.

“Ah you’re just on a roll today aren’t you?” Bahorel rolled his eyes again and really that type of mockery did not look good on him and Grantaire told him as much.

“Jesus you’re lucky you’re an asshole who happens to be good with kids or I wouldn’t be asking you for this.” Bahorel said.

“Correction. I’m an asshole who happens to be okay with my own kid and that of my friends. Don’t get those two mixed up.” Grantaire supplied.

Bahorel ignored the fact that words were indeed leaving his mouth and instead said. “I having a _thing_ I go to Thursday evenings at four and I kind of need your help there.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow.“A _thing_?”

“A thing. An activism thing and no-” he said as Grantaire was about to voice a protest. “I’m not asking you to get involved with the activism aspect. I know that’s not your thing. Aiden is going to finish maternelle next year and I was looking up good schools for him to go to two years ago-stop fucking laughing asshole you’re gonna do the same thing when it’s Belle’s turn- and I came across this education rights group and they’re really pretty good. Anyway there was a nun they knew who took care of the day care, since y’know- _education,_ but she’s moving to a different convent at the end of the month and they need a replacement. A lot of parents come to these things. With their kids. Noisy kids who need to stay put in one place for an hour every evening and now without the help of Sister Simplice.”

Grantaire cut off his rant right there. “I know you and Ep think that I don’t have friends because I’m a delicate introverted flower or whatever, but I actually just don’t have the time.” Grantaire scrubbed his hand over his face. He felt like a twat. Bahorel never hesitate to help him when he needed something, but time just wasn’t something he could afford to waste. Not when he was raising a toddler.

“They can pay you.” Bahorel tried, and if he was still trying that meant that he was desperate. “They’re all rich kids at the university and they have a benefactor who pays for their most of their expenses. They can more than afford it and they told me if I couldn’t get anyone to volunteer they’d pay.”

Grantaire sighed. They must be desperate too. He wanted to say no, but the extra money would be useful and his mind went to all his upcoming bills and he tapped his finger against his thigh anxiously.

“How much?”

 

*

Courfeyrac was taking over the day care for the meanwhile and it was a mess. It wasn’t that Courfeyrac wasn’t good with children. That wasn’t the case at all. Courfeyrac was amazing with kids to the shock of absolutely no one. The problem was was that he was good enough with them that the amount of noise they were making was beginning to be louder than either Enjolras or Combeferre could speak. Enjolras glanced at Feuilly, who grew up in an orphanage and was much better at dealing with large groups of children than any of them, and he nodded before stepping away to the room in the back at the Musain Community Centre that they used as a nursery.

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief as the noise quietened to something manageable and Combeferre jumped in to talk about the lack of proper healthcare in schools. He really had no idea how Feuilly managed it. Courfeyrac emerged from the back with a pout and joined Combeferre and Enjolras at the front.

“I’m sorry I missed your speech O’ Great Stealer of Fun.” Courfeyrac said his tone acerbic but his face betraying his amusement as he sat next to him.

“I think Combeferre wants your attention.” Enjolras replied calmly, nodding at their bespectacled friend as he started involving parents into the conversation. “I think he _really_ wants your undivided attention.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to respond again when Bahorel walked in and Courfeyrac gestured at him excitedly instead. His hands fell to his side when a man walked in with Bahorel. It wasn’t the first time Bahorel had brought someone to a meeting so Enjolras didn’t really see the big deal.

This time, the person he brought was just as muscled and tattooed as he was, he had multiple piercings and his ears were plugged, he had messy hair and he was wearing one of the overused ‘the government fucks me everyday’ t-shirts which made Enjolras roll his eyes. It wasn’t that the quote didn’t have any merit; it was that the quote was so overused that the words were beginning to lack meaning. Tacky shirt aside, that didn’t explain why Courfeyrac got so silent and confused when he walked in.  

It wasn’t until Courfeyrac got up and was halfway across the room that Enjolras remembered that today was the day that Bahorel was supposed to be bringing in someone to run the day care and it- well it made sense now. Enjolras had no problems with tattoos and piercings, but he knew a lot of parents who would.

He glanced at Combeferre, whose speech was still going strong and followed Courfeyrac to Bahorel and his friend both of whom he was happily talking to now, his fears looking somewhat eased.

“Enjolras!” Courfeyrac smiled as Enjolras neared. He hooked his arms in Enjolras’ and exclaimed. “This is Grantaire. He and Bahorel have been friends for over eight years.” That explained why he was more relaxed about the man. Bahorel was a good man and he had many, many acquaintances, but the people he called his friends were always trustworthy. “He’s Aiden’s godfather.”

“I’m Enjolras.” He said holding out the hand that was free and Grantaire hesitated before taking it and shaking it softly before letting go. His hands were rough and callused.

“You know my name obviously,” Grantaire said. “And I yours, because of Bahorel here.”

Bahorel shrugged. “Grantaire isn’t really into the activism aspect of childcare, but I caught him up to speed as much as I could.”

“You don’t care about children’s rights?” Enjolras asked barely hiding his grimace. He felt Courfeyrac deflate next to him but he still looked at the man, awaiting a response.

“Of course I do.” Grantaire said shrugging confusedly. His hair bounced slightly at the movement and Enjolras found his eyes drawn to it. “I just think we should deal with the real problems and focus more on the change that we can actually achieve something about instead of attempting the impossible.”

“So it’s impossible for us to want the people who will be the future of this country to have the education that they deserve. The education that is promised to them by the law.” Enjolras asked.

“Again you’re putting words in my mouth.” Grantaire sighed and he seemed to be growing agitated, but Enjolras didn’t care. This man was wrong and when people were wrong about things like this all Enjolras wanted to do was make them right.

“I don’t think I am.”

“Well as long as _you_ don’t think you are. That’s all that matters apparently.” Grantaire rolled his eyes and Enjolras narrowed his.

Enjolras was about to respond when he noticed that Courfeyrac’s arm sliding out of his. He looked up and Courfeyrac was looking at him sternly- well as stern as Courfeyrac ever was, and Bahorel was torn between glaring at him and glaring at Grantaire.

“Do you have any experience taking care of children?” Enjolras asked brusquely ignoring the way Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows and Bahorel’s shoulders stiffened and then slumped.

“I ha- I’m good with kids but if you don’t want me I can just leave.” Grantaire replied, his tone equally as harsh.

“And what does that -“

“And we need your help so we’ll very gladly take it.” Courfeyrac interjected smoothly. “Bahorel can show you to the back if you’re okay with that.”

Grantaire nodded tetchily and Bahorel steered him by the shoulder as they walked away.

Courfeyrac turned to face him. “If we had to get someone new to take over day care because everyone who disagrees with you is suddenly the devil reincarnate I swear to God I would have kicked you.”

Enjolras suppressed the smile at the thought.  “No you wouldn’t have.”

“No.” Courfeyrac agreed. “But I would have thought about it. I would have had fantasies for months about your head as a football and me kicking it down a field soaked in your blood.”

Enjolras paused and looked at Courfeyrac with a grimace. “You’re highly disturbing.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

When Bahorel came back out Enjolras felt as though he should apologize to him given the looks Combeferre, who Courfeyrac had told everything the minute he finished his speech and Musichetta and Joly had taken over to start giving out pamphlets and discussing them with the parents and students interested, and Courfeyrac were giving him, but then again he was never in the habit of giving apologies when he was in the right. So he didn’t say anything.

“Feuilly’s staying in the back with him.” Bahorel said sitting next to Combeferre. “Says they knew each other from art class at secondary school.”

“Grantaire’s an art student?” Courfeyrac asked curiously.

“Emphasis on _knew_.” Bahorel replied tersely.

“Ah.” Combeferre replied and he changed the subject swiftly since it didn’t seem like a topic Bahorel was interested in pursuing. “How’s Adien these days.”

Bahorel perked up visibly at that and he started off on a tangent on how Aiden had swallowed a marble and how he had fretted for hours, feeding Aiden only liquids and fibrous foods until it came out. He was jovial about it now, but Enjolras could just imagine how distressed he would have been at the time. Bahorel was a good parent. He dispelled a lot of stereotypes looking as he did and being such a doting father. It was good for their cause.

“Where’s the little guy tonight?”Courfeyrac asked.

“Remember my friend I told you about? Eponine? She’s babysitting for me tonight.”

“Aww how come?” Courfeyrac pouted. “I love it when he comes around and Enjolras has to pretend that he sees kids as anything other than short, sticky humans with tiny fingers and tinier attention spans.”

Enjolras made a face at him and Bahorel and Combeferre chuckled. It wasn’t that Enjolras didn’t like children. He wanted children sometime in the future. He planned on teaching primary school. He liked children just fine. They were the future of the country he loved so much. He just didn’t know how to act around them. He didn’t see the point in acting as though they were morons who he couldn’t have normal discussion with, albeit with a filter and he didn’t smile often on normal occasions so forcing smiles because children were around just made him look like he just sucked a sour lemon and in turn it made parents reluctant to let him around their children. As a result he tends not to spend much time around the tiny humans.

Combeferre kept telling him that it’s a flaw of his given that he plans on spending the rest of his life being an educator of said tiny humans.

“I wasn’t sure how well Grantaire would have gotten along with you guys given his endless cynicism. I don’t like Aiden around arguments he can’t understand and Aiden generally clings to Grantaire almost as much as he clings to me so I guess I made the right choice.” Bahorel said smiling at Enjolras who felt his cheeks begin to heat up.

That was another problem he had that made spending a lot of time with children difficult. He knew he was too intense sometimes and it tended to sometimes even intimidate the adults around him far less the children. Toning down his fervour to something that didn’t make kids run away from him terrified was something he was working on.

Courfeyrac smirked and Bahorel shrugged unapologetically. Enjolras was about to defend himself to them when Jehan walked up to them and softly said. “I think we should probably wrap up now. It’s almost five and that means there’s only just enough time for dinner, a bath and bed for most of the younger kids.”

“Good point Jehan.” Combeferre said. He stood up and took Enjolras’ hand and pulled him up with him. Courfeyrac followed as they headed to back to the stage. The three of them usually delivered the ending speech together anyway.

Bahorel said. “I’ll go warn Grantaire to expect the parents.” As they walked away. Combeferre nodded and waved his hand in acknowledgement before turning to face the room.

 

When Bahorel was returned, they were just finishing up. Courfeyrac and Combeferre had veered off to talk to the few college students that attended the meeting this time. Enjolras remained by the table on the stage and started packing away fliers and pamphlets that were scattered across the table.

“How was day care?” Enjolras asked when Bahorel made his way next to him, making no attempt to help him pack up.

“It was fine.” Bahorel shrugged picking up one of their fliers. Feuilly’s design.

“Fine? Just _fine_?” Enjolras asked.

“Feuilly’s coming over. He can tell you more.” Bahorel rolled his eyes gesturing to the room Feuilly was walking out of. He was smiling as he walked towards them.

“I didn’t know you knew Grantaire.” He said when they were in hearing distance. “I haven’t seen that bloke in ages.”

“I know everyone in Paris.” Bahorel scoffed. “Who do you take me for?”

“Oh I forgot. You’re like Know-ah’s Ark.” Feuilly rolled his eyes. “Every two people that pass by _knows_ Bahorel.”

“Damn straight.” Bahorel grinned until he noticed Grantaire was walking towards them. He glanced at Enjolras and then rushed over to Grantaire steering him towards where Combeferre, Jehan and Joly were talking.

“What do you think of him?” Enjolras asked addressing Feuilly.

“Who Grantaire? He’s...different to the Grantaire I knew, but he’s still a good bloke. He’s surprisingly good with children. They all adore him already. I think some of the parents who came to pick their kids up were wary at first, but their kids were happy and unharmed so I think they’re good with him too.” Feuilly smiled silently.

“What do you mean _different_?” Enjolras asked his mind latching onto the part of that sentence that gave him some history on Grantaire. He was interested. This was after all the man they were leaving in charge of innocent lives for an hour every two weeks.

“I don’t think he drinks anymore, which is a good thing because he used to be - well- he made Courfeyrac, Musichetta, Bossuet and Joly put together look tame. I don’t think any of us could have partied with him and lasted the whole night without alcohol poisoning...or ending up in jail.” Feuilly chuckled until he took in Enjolras’ expression. Enjolras was sure his face was contorted in anger and disbelief. It was only fair. Why on earth would Bahorel think it a good idea to hire a drunk to take care of the children they’re _all_ responsible for?

“Enjolras.” Feuilly rested his hand on Enjolras’ shoulder.  “I said that’s how he _was_. He looks calmer now. Sober. More settled.”

“Bahorel had the responsibility of bringing someone more stable than an addict.” Enjolras said stubbornly.

“Everyone has a past Enjolras.” Feuilly said warily. “But I guess I get where you’re coming from. If it’s anything we can talk to Bahorel about it. I mean he has to know the guy pretty well if he’s Aiden’s godfather.”

Enjolras, somewhat placated nodded and Feuilly spared a smile for him before walking towards the group that was beginning to surround the man Enjolras needed to know more about. The place was mostly cleared out outside of the group and straggling parents and students. Enjolras gestured Bahorel over and he nodded patting Grantaire on the back before coming over to where Enjolras was standing putting away extra pamphlets.

“Is this about Grantaire?” Bahorel asked suspiciously.

Enjolras nodded. “Feuilly tells me he’s had alcohol problems.”

“Yeah he- I mean he was pretty wild when he was younger. He’s sober now though. For over two years.” Bahorel frowned. “So it won’t be a problem if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Of course.” Enjolras replied shaking his head. “Well I had to ask.”

“No I get it.” Bahorel said. “R and I should go though. Aiden gets cranky when it’s this late and he hasn’t eaten yet.”

“R?” Enjolras queried.

“Think about it carefully Enjolras.” Bahorel said grinning broadly before patting Enjolras on the shoulder before going back over to the table. It dawned on him a second later and he smiled despite himself. It was a clever pun.

Grantaire was now sitting with Bossuet, Courfeyrac, Musichetta and Joly and was saying something that had them roaring with laughter. Bahorel whispered something in his ear and Grantaire’s face darkened before glancing at Enjolras. Enjolras looked away when Grantaire’s eyes met his.

When Enjolras looked back they were both saying their goodbyes and leaving with smiles on their faces. Combeferre made his way to Enjolras a few minutes after that with two brooms in his hand.

“Today went well I think.” He said standing next to Enjolras.

“Mmnn.” Enjolras acquiesced as he surveyed the room. 

Courfeyrac, Bossuet and Joly were still chatting animatedly, Jehan and Feuilly were nowhere to be seen which that meant that they were packing up and Musichetta had begged off when Grantaire and Bahorel left claiming that she needed to be home early. Combeferre handed him one of the brooms with a small smile and they started cleaning up.  

Weirdness about the new addition to the group aside, tonight’s meeting was a successful one.

*

“You know, all of that would have just gone easier if I could have told him that you have a kid.” Bahorel peered at Grantaire curiously but Grantaire kept his eyes fixed on the road. “Enjolras is rigid and intense but he respects parents.”

“Whatever. The dude’s an asshole. Forgive me if I don’t want every asshole that I meet at a job I was desperate for to know about my kid.”

Grantaire didn’t think he was being irrational. You had to be careful with who you exposed your kid to. He’s dealt with enough nightmare babysitters to at least learn _that_ lesson. If Grantaire doesn’t know you, why on earth should he trust you around his kid? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uncle Enjolras what do you think.” Grantaire asked with a grin.
> 
> “About?” Enjolras cleared his throat.
> 
> “Should the princess use her magic fire power or her magic green goo power to attack the spider monster?” Of course. That made sense.

Enjolras’ mornings on a weekday worked according to a routine he had developed when he’d first started at the university. After the hellish noise that generally accompanies his first alarm at five, his second alarm at half past five and his third alarm at quarter past six he blearily rolls out of bed, cursing the invention of sunrise. He then proceeds to doze on himself while a cup coffee sits in front of him untouched before stumbling his way back to bed. It isn’t until Combeferre actually physically _drags_ him out of bed and shoves a mug of coffee under his nose that he actually gets up and even then he isn’t functional until _at least_ his third cup.

Today was slightly different being that it was Thursday, for two specific reasons.

For one, on the days of their official meetings he and his friends tend to get together for breakfast at the Corinthe in the morning. It was the one day of the week that he didn’t have early morning classes, in fact he didn’t have a single class until after twelve and Combeferre and Jehan decided to use that to their advantage to make sure that he ate at least one meal under their watchful eye once a week.

The way their group worked was that they had meetings that happened once a week in theory but twice a day in actuality. One informal, and one not.

Thursday evenings were recognized as official meetings given that the crowd tended to be bigger and the Cause was actually discussed as opposed to casually talked about over breakfast at a pub. According to everyone else their Thursday morning meetings were in no way informal given that they spend most of it going over the plan for the evening, but Enjolras disagreed. The atmosphere was always more casual and relaxed then than it was come evening time.

Everyone was fine with the routine except for Courfeyrac who occasionally joked that they met like clockwork every Thursday morning _and_ evening because they were repetitive, boring and had no understanding of spontaneity or how healthy friendships work.

“Normal people don’t put ‘meet friends at pub every Thursday in their day planner Enjolras. We need help.”

Enjolras just thought it was convenient that every Thursday they’d meet at the Corinthe before class or work. They _were_ a close and incredibly co-dependent bunch and the Corinth was the easiest place for them to meet up since Feuilly had the morning shift there.

Enjolras wasn’t really much of a drinker but a lot of his friends were. And if they- well Joly, Bossuet and Jehan for the most part- wanted a glass of wine with breakfast, he didn’t have the right to cast judgement. (Not that that stopped him the first time of course. He never forgot the thirty minute long speech Joly gave about the benefits of including a glass of red wine in your everyday diet. Enjolras was sure that that didn’t mean they had to start so early but he learned to keep his mouth shut on whatever choices his friends made about what they ate from then on.)

The other reason that today was different was because on Thursdays and Saturdays like clockwork, Combeferre was out of the door by six and back by seven. Normally he did yoga on mornings but he went running on those days and when Combeferre went running, nothing but the most serious emergency could bring him back to the flat before time. Like if Enjolras was dying. Or already dead. And the building was on fire. With five infants trapped inside.

So while he was able to wake up an hour later than normal, a fact which he was incredibly grateful for, he had to do so without the aid of Combeferre.

It wasn’t that he was solely reliant on Combeferre. He was just used to his constant presence. Combeferre was the one person Enjolras had ever felt closest to. It had been that way since they met Enjolras’ first day of collégeand Combeferre, who was two years his senior, was chosen to be his mentor. Their relationship has been almost symbiotic since. Enjolras couldn’t imagine his life without him. He had no idea how he would have survived his first year of collégewithout him far less university.

In fact it was Combeferre and by extension Courfeyrac who were Enjolras’ biggest influence when it came to starting Les Amis.

By his first year of lycé _e_ when he’d met Courfeyrac and Combeferre was about to leave to go to university, his and Courfeyrac’s passion for justice combined was sometimes too intense for the people around them to ingest, although Courfeyrac had a kindness and warmness to his that Enjolras didn’t posses. Combeferre, who had taken a fondness to Courfeyrac at the lycée, was something of a steadying hand when he visited. When Courfeyrac joined him at university and then Enjolras a year later and Combeferre had taken on his role as the mediator on a more constant basis was when their combined strengths helped form an unstoppable force. It was during Enjolras’ first year that they started Les Amis de l’ABC. It was always meant to be an educational rights groups that was mainly dedicated to pointing out and helping with the flaws in the secondary and tertiary education system, but it wasn’t until Courfeyrac started handing out pamphlets at his little sister’s primary school and parents started attending their meetings and he started to realise how early a lot of the problems in the system began that Enjolras even began considering that spending his life helping children through the mess that was public primary school as something that was a viable career option.

On mornings like this as Enjolras drank his coffee, he thought about how he inadvertently owed his entire life’s goal to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Education was important to him of course, but his plan was always to become a professor. Considering shaping the minds of children would never have occurred to him without the influence of his two best friends.

Combeferre walked inside when Enjolras had finished his first cup, his headphones still in his ears and Enjolras greeted him with a small smile and just one word. “Breakfast.”

“I know. Courfeyrac’s been texting me all morning.” Combeferre said pulling the headphones out and resting his iPhone on the counter. “I’ll get dressed.”

Enjolras checked the news on his phone when Combeferre shut himself in his room. Luckily for Enjolras, Combeferre was as adept at getting ready quickly as he was with most other things. He was pushing his glasses up on his face when he left his room with his bag slung over his back five minutes later.

“You still need to get your book today.” Combeferre reminded Enjolras sitting opposite him.

“Yeah. I’ll just drop by a bookstore after breakfast.” Enjolras replied.

“Speaking of which we’re probably late for brunch.” Combeferre said taking Enjolras’ cup and putting it in the sink.

“I don’t think it’s considered _brunch_ when it isn’t even eight yet.” Enjolras said getting up anyway.

“Do you plan on eating lunch today?” Combeferre asked with a cocked brow. Enjolras hesitated. “My point exactly.”

 

When Courfeyrac saw Enjolras and Combeferre walking towards where they were all sitting his eyes twinkled as he said. “You’re both late! For shame!”

“Courfeyrac’s lecturing me on tardiness.” Combeferre replied wryly. “I’d feel bad if it wasn’t so hilarious.”

Courfeyrac poked his tongue out causing almost everyone at the table to laugh at the inherent childishness involved in the action. Bahorel almost choked on his crepes and Musichetta just rolled her eyes fondly. Feuilly smiled at them as they neared and Joly took a sip from his glass of wine almost confrontationally. Enjolras just sighed. He was never going to live that one down apparently.

“Okay let’s get down to business.” Enjolras said as he took his seat in between Feuilly and Combeferre.

“To defeat the Huns.” Bossuet sang under his breath.

*

Before going to class, Enjolras needed to buy a new copy of David Copperfield. It was one of the downsides to studying English to get a teaching degree come two years time. Needing to study shitty, pretentious, classical literature. His last copy was destroyed when Bossuet and Courfeyrac decided that tables were overrated and that playing beer pong on his schoolbook was a better idea which meant that his old copy was battered and stained with cheap beer. It was nothing less than what the book deserved but it was still something he needed to read thoroughly. It was something he needed to do weeks ago if he was being honest with himself.

Enjolras hated when this happened, but it was something that happened to him often. He loved routine. He truly did. He needed it to function properly. But sometimes, justsometimes when things got to be too much, he would forget. It wouldn’t be simply because he had a few other things on his mind and it slipped his attention. No. It would happen when Enjolras’ mind was so filled with tasks yet to be completed that he forgot that prioritizing was a thing that people did. Combeferre said he put too much on his plate and he and Joly worried over Enjolras falling prey to stress related illnesses but Enjolras didn’t believe in slowing down. So on occasion he forgot. He was supposed to read and study this book weeks ago, but Sister Simplice was leaving and they needed someone new and parents were getting worried and Enjolras was _busy_.

So that morning after brunch, Enjolras went in search of the first bookstore he could find when he came across an old, slightly run down store called Mabeuf’s. Hardly a suitable name for a bookstore.  Nothing was wrong with it of course, but from a marketing standpoint it didn’t make Enjolras want to rush into the store and get his hands on every book he saw. Still, he was desperate and the bookshop _was_ close to the university.

When he entered there was the clichéd _ding_ of a doorbell. The shop was old and dusty. There were cobwebs in the corner and what looked like a death trap compiled of very large books in a sliver crate hung just above the door. It didn’t look like it would fall anytime soon but Enjolras stepped out of the way just in case. Joly and Jehan would probably faint if they came in here albeit both for different reasons.

Behind the desk reading a book when he entered was- and of course it would be- Grantaire. Enjolras suppressed a grimace. He and Grantaire hadn’t really talked since the first meeting he came to. All of his friends seem to be pleased with him and Feuilly raved about his skill with the children that first day and the week after so perhaps Enjolras was judging him too harshly but Grantaire’s words still left him sour taste in his mouth. He hated when people used terms like ‘real’ problems and ‘real’ issues as if the problems that children face existed in a vacuum. Enjolras knew that he shouldn’t openly show such distaste when faced with someone’s personal opinion, but Grantaire’s words that day had grated on him for more reasons than one. It wasn’t as if it was the first time someone had disagreed with him. That was actually something of a constant occurrence. He was used to fighting his side of an argument. The argument he had with Grantaire however, couldn’t really even be called an argument. The lack of fire, of conviction coming from Grantaire’s mouth made him feel odd and bereft. Even the most abhorrent bigot could argue their point with conviction. Bad conviction and at times misguided conviction. Conviction that made Enjolras want to break noses, but it was _something_. They _believed_ the bullshit they were saying, which didn’t make them better of course just easier for Enjolras to understand. Passion, Enjolras gets. People who could speak negatively about important things as casually as Grantaire did,  was completely foreign to him and were not people worth arguing with in his eyes.

Something about the man though, made Enjolras feel a pull that was bizarre to him. He _wanted_ to talk to him, to argue with him until he stopped being wrong and turn all of his flippancy into something that burned. Nonetheless he always refrained from it.

Grantaire, whenever he saw him, looked at him with similar distaste so Enjolras supposed he wasn’t alone.

The distaste was clear on the curly haired man’s face as he peered at Enjolras cautiously. Enjolras bristled at the feel of Grantaire’s eyes on him, but he stepped forward anyway. He didn’t have to acknowledge the man until he paid for his book anyway. Enjolras just started perusing the shelves looking for his intended purchase. It wasn’t until five minutes that he realised how useless it was. The entire place was like a maze. The textbooks were beside the erotica. The religious books were next to the science fiction. The classics were on top of the children’s books. There was no order in the shop whatsoever.

Enjolras was frustrated and he had no choice but walk up to the counter and to Grantaire who was looking at him with smug amusement and purse his lips. “Do you know where I can find David Copperfield?” He asked sharply.

“Ah. You _do_ seem the type who’d be into Dickens.” Grantaire said in his irritating drawl.

Enjolras tried not to let his hackles rise at that. He didn’t do a very good job of it if the way Grantaire rolled his eyes at him meant anything. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He was a pompous twat who’s virtually unreadable, but people eat him up so that they could sound cultured and sophisticated.” He chuckled. “It’s like l _ook at me, I read Dickens and drink tea with my pinky in the air. Aren’t I special?_ ”

“So instead we should all sit around reading,” Enjolras glanced at the book in his hands and snorted. He didn’t even know why he was arguing this. He liked Dickens probably as much as Grantaire did. “Fifty Shades of Grey? Did your inner goddess manage to convince you that it has more merit than Dickens?”

“Says the person quoting it.” Grantaire replied dryly.

Despite himself Enjolras felt his face begin to heat up and he silently cursed Courfeyrac to hell for constantly quoting the damned book. “One of my friends really enjoys it.”

“Ah. Your _friend_. Of course.”

Enjolras’ brushed a lock of hair that fell out of his ponytail behind his ear. He raised his head to retort and got caught off guard. Grantaire’s eyes were striking up close, especially the way it contrasted with his dark skin. That type of blue shouldn’t exist anywhere but in the ocean.

He cleared his throat. “Hating Dickens and having questionable taste in literature aside, can you help me find the book?”

“At your service.” Grantaire said stepping out from behind the counter. He walked around the shop in a careless fashion and Enjolras had no choice but to follow behind him. He finally stopped in front of a bookshelf near the door and pulled a copy out, putting it in Enjolras’ hands. “There you go.”

“So outside of thinking children shouldn’t receive the basic right of education, you’re a book keep?” Enjolras asked conversationally, searching his pockets for his wallet.

When he handed the bills to Grantaire, Grantaire snatched it from his hands none too gently. “If putting words in people’s mouths is how your group does its work I’m surprised you aren’t more popular than you already are.”

“I just think your goals are lofty and almost impossible. I prioritize things differently than you do.” Grantaire continued. “I’d want my kid to have the best education whenever the time came, but I’d be sure as hell more invested in getting her to survive the system, as flawed as it is, than spend time trying to tear it down.”

“Creating a safe school environment for all children isn’t a lofty goal. Nor is it impossible. It’s difficult but difficult isn’t the same as impossible.” Enjolras said firmly. “Giving up is not the answer here. It’s never the answer.”

“When I have to choose between giving up and protecting myself and the people I care about and standing in the line of fire, I’ll pick my family every time.” Grantaire said simply.

A part of Enjolras understood where he was coming from, but a bigger part was still dissatisfied with the response. “I’m not trying to offend you but-“

“But just so you know the idea that you seem to have that I’m some sort of a child hating devil because I have a different opinion to yours is one that _offends_ me.” Grantaire said with his eyebrows raised. And Enjolras wondered how long he was waiting to get that one out.

“You’re not.” Enjolras relented. “The children all seem to adore you.”

“Well what’s that saying: I believe the power of observation in numbers of very young children to be quite wonderful for its closeness and accuracy.” Grantaire chewed his bottom lip. “Did I quote that right?”

“Yes you did for someone who claims to hate the author. You seem pretty smart.” Enjolras said unable to contain his surprise. Grantaire’s eyes narrowed and Enjolras cleared his throat completely aware of how patronizing his shock sounded. He tried to bolster on. “Why did you leave school?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.” Grantaire replied pleasantly.

And that was that apparently. Any conversation they were on the verge of having was now over. Grantaire cashed the book and gave him his change which Enjolras took hurriedly. He was eager to get out of the now awkward atmosphere and Grantaire was probably just as eager for him to leave.

*

When Enjolras walked away Grantaire sighed. It’d been almost four weeks since he’s started working for Les Amis and Enjolras still hadn’t grown on him. And somehow Grantaire’s tongue managed to become glaringly loose around the guy. He hoped Enjolras didn’t notice his slip up. He was glad that he had the prescience not to use a name when talking about his hypothetical kid. Jesus. He felt like an asshole. He was somewhat sure that Bahorel’s friends weren’t creepy child molesters or potential kidnappers so he really should at least mention her existence to them.

The thought of introducing Enjolras to his kid however made his chest feel tight for some strange reason. Bahorel laughed at him when he said that and Eponine said that’s how schoolgirl crushes work but Grantaire just fell into a paroxysm of laughter. Sure Enjolras was beautiful, painfully so but every time he looked at Grantaire it was as if he’d tasted something funny in his mouth and it grated on Grantaire’s nerves and made his stomach churn. Bahorel said that once Grantaire’s heard him talk there would be no turning back, but Grantaire highly doubted it. He doesn’t spend much time around Enjolras but from what he’s gathered Enjolras is a self important asshole with hair that the angels have touched. He made Grantaire want to punch him or muss up his perfect hair or yell at him and shove him against a wall or- anything so he would stop looking at Grantaire as though he was less than the dirt under his shoes.

On the other hand the rest of Bahorel’s friends seemed nice, but Grantaire hadn’t really been spending much time with them either. All of his energy was used seeing after the kids. Sometimes it made Grantaire’s heart pang, because it was just once a week, but it was time that he could have been spending with his _own_ kid. Still when little Elodie would hand him a finger painting that she did that evening or Louison would bring him a tiny flower every evening or Aiden would call him _the_ _coolest_ _uncle ever_ it felt like- he wasn’t sure what but it felt like _something_. Like he was doing something worthwhile.

With the ABC however, he still needed to find a way to work well with them. If there’s one thing he’s learned in his adult life it was that he was not special and could be easily replaced in the blink of an eye and he needed all the extra money he could get.

Grantaire held his breath when the door opened again and this time a sandy haired young man with freckles came bursting through. Everything about him looked-well sad. Grantaire felt slightly bad for thinking it, but it was true. His hair was short but scruffy, he had a hint of a five o’ clock shadow, his eyes were sunken in as if he hadn’t slept in days, he was out of breath, he had papers flying out of his bag, his clothes were messy and if Grantaire wasn’t wrong there was spit up on his shoulder. Grantaire was familiar with this look. It was the look of a new parent who had no fucking clue what the hell they were doing.

Grantaire was about to offer his assistance when Mabeuf came out from the room in the back with a pleasant smile. “Grantaire this is Marius. He’s here to help you out with the store.”

That made sense. Mabeuf was getting older and he spent more time perusing his books as opposed to selling them which was a cute quirk but not really conducive to running a business. The boy- Marius- gave a strained smile and Grantaire returned it. Mabeuf’s wasn’t a particularly busy store but sometimes stocks and inventory took up more time than Grantaire could afford to waste. Having two extra eyes and hands would be useful to him.

Mabeuf walked around the store explaining things to Marius here and there and giving him instructions. Grantaire heard bits and snatches of what Mabeuf was saying and he felt slightly bad for the kid. Mabeuf had the tendency to go off topic and talk about his plants or favourite volumes as opposed to being helpful with directions.

“Hey I can give him the rest of the tour.” Grantaire said loudly and Marius flashed him a grateful look.

Mabeuf nodded seriously and told Marius. “Come see me if you need any more help son.”

Marius nodded his thanks as Mabeuf retreated to the back.

“Everything is all mixed up.” Marius said with a furrow in his brow, turning to face Grantaire. “How are customers supposed to find anything?”

“Well it _is_ in order, just not alphabetical. Or by genre. Or by author.” Grantaire grinned.

Marius stared at him waiting for him to go on.

“It’s by publication.”

“Oh.” And Marius didn’t look less confused. Grantaire got where he was coming from. It was a strange way to organize. “That’s-”

“Look it’s easy.” Grantaire said. He gestured to a specific bookshelf. “This section is 15th century.” And another. “This entire wall is 19th century.” Another. “20th century.”

Marius took it all in as Grantaire went on, his eyes scanning across the shelves as though he was memorizing everything.

“That there,” he pointed at the astoundingly large pile of books hanging above the door. “is Mabeuf’s personal selection of rare books which means _look but don’t touch_.” Not that Grantaire really followed that rule, but he _was_ careful.

When it looked like Marius had gotten the hang of everything they both sat behind the counter silently.

“So,” Grantaire started when it looked like no customers were going to come in soon. “How old is she?”

Marius turned to face him, startled. “What?”

“Or he?”

“I don’t-”

“There’s spit up on your shoulder.” Grantaire said.

“Oh.” Marius replied, trying to take a peek at his sleeves. “Her name’s Angelette. She’s eight months.”

“They’re so cute at that age.” Grantaire said with a fond smile remembering how Belle was back then.

Marius smiled too and then his eyes started to water. Grantaire’s eyes widened and he patted Marius on the back awkwardly. That was enough to make the waterworks come out and he started babbling as he sobbed, telling Grantaire the story.

He never knew his father. He always had assumed that his father never wanted him until one day when he was digging through his grandfather’s books he noticed a pile of letters all addressed to him from his father. His grandfather disowned him when Marius confronted him and Marius was left penniless. He didn’t tell the whole story but from what Grantaire got, his father had another kid 20 years after him and he named Marius sole guardian in the case of his death. 

(Personally, Grantaire was convinced that Marius’ father was batshit.

Who on earth would leave their kid to take care of their other kid, especially when he didn’t really know anything about the first one.

Grantaire kept his opinion to himself though, because Marius only spoke of the man with the utmost admiration and respect.)

Unluckily for Marius when he went to visit his father for the first time, it was also the day that his father passed away and this duty was suddenly thrust on him. The judge told him that he could put her up for adoption if he felt like he wasn’t ready for the responsibility but he refused and was left with a squalling three month baby to take care of. He’s been stumbling through taking care of her for five months on his own doing everything blindly with only the help of the internet and he was at his wits end. Grantaire empathized. If he had to take care of Belle on his own when she was a newborn, he might have gone crazy.

“Shit.”

Marius nodded as if he understood the sentiment completely.

“I have a friend who might be able to help.” Grantaire said thoughtfully. “But I’d need to call her first.”

*

“So who has Belle tonight?” Azelma yelled from the living room as Grantaire washed his face in their kitchen sink.

“Bahorel.” Grantaire shouted back. “He was staying home with Aiden so I asked him.”

When Grantaire walked back outside he saw Azelma sitting on the couch filing her nails. She glanced up at him with a smile. Under Eponine’s care both Azelma and Gavroche looked different. As though they had a shitload worries off their back. And knowing their ‘parents’, they really did.

“Where’s Gav?” Grantaire asked, wiping his face with a dishcloth before throwing it on the couch.

“Who the fuck knows?” Azelma replied with a shrug.

Eponine stormed out of her room not a minute later and pointed an accusing glare at Grantaire. “I don’t like this.”

“You could have said no.” Grantaire sighed. Eponine was even more wary than Grantaire when it came to strange people and her kids. Her helpful nature however, always tended to outweigh her guardedness. “Come on Ep. He’s one kid. You could take him. Fuck, Belle could probably take him.”

Azelma snorted at that.

“I’ll bring hellfire down on your head if he turns out to be some desperate, junkie, mugger looking to rob me blind.”

“I _think_ we’ll be fine then.” Grantaire replied loftily. “All of his track marks looked at _least_ a year old.”

Eponine was still glaring at him but her lips quirked upwards so he knew she would have laughed if she wasn’t still pretending to be put off with Grantaire.

She was about to respond when they heard a knock on the door. Grantaire gestured to her to be calm when Grantaire opened the door slightly.

Marius stood outside shifting from foot to foot with a small sleeping bundle in his arms.

“This is the first time she’s slept in hours.” He whispered, his voice strained.

Grantaire nodded sympathetically. Eponine was still inside. Mother bear mode on. 

Eponine inhabiting the role of mother over Gavroche and Azelma as easily as she did was the least surprising of him, Bahorel and her.

She was Gavroche and Azelma’s parents long before she actually got legal guardianship over them.

Azelma was seventeen now and she tended to go out on her own with her friends and come home drunk or high, grateful for her freedom, which Grantaire is pretty sure is the reason that Eponine’s started getting permanent bags under her eyes worrying about her, but back when she was just fifteen she was the most reluctant of her siblings to leave the ‘care’ of her parents.

Gavroche was less hesitant. He was like a cockroach as Eponine told him at the time, the most resilient six year old you would ever find. He could adapt to and survive in any situation. When Eponine told him the judge had granted her custody of him and Azelma, Gavroche had just said in the cute lisp he had at the time that he manipulated for another year to his advantage, “It doesn’t matter to me Ponine, I just goes where the breeze tells me.”

Of the three of them, it was also no surprise that she was also the best parent you could ever find. She helped both Grantaire and Bahorel figure out pretty much every aspect of baby care including diaper changes and potty training; she was more informed than google, bing, yahoo and ask.com put together.

Marius would benefit from just speaking to her for ten minutes. Especially given that the little girl in his arms had opened her mouth and started wailing. Marius was bouncing up and down and making ‘sshhing’ noises but to no avail. He looked to Grantaire, distressed.

“Come in then.” Grantaire winced opening the door wider. He shuffled inside and Eponine immediately pounced on him.

“If you fuck with my kids I just want you to know that I’ve shivved a guy already.” She said calmly taking Angelette from Marius’ arms. Marius gulped. Eponine was more intimidating than any one person had the right to be.

“Well.” Grantaire said, stifling a laugh. “This looks like it’s going well.” Eponine made a face at him but she waved him off with the hand that she was using to burp the baby. Angelette’s cries had subsided to coos. Eponine really was a miracle worker.

Grantaire checked the time and fuck it all he would be late if he ran all the way. He said his goodbyes quickly and hurried out the door. By the time he arrived Enjolras was at the front speaking and everyone else except Feuilly was spread across the room which meant that he was taking care of day care for Grantaire. Grantaire was about to head to the backroom until he actually heard what Enjolras was saying. He’d never taken the time to come out and actually listen to any of them speak and at the moment it felt like grievous mistake on his part.

Enjolras was talking and it was a dawning realisation that went like “Oh.” Grantaire finally understood. Why everyone acted like the sun shone out of Enjolras’ ass. Why all the parents and in turn their kids all spoke so highly of him. Why he seemed to have a flock of people who listened to his every word. It finally made sense and all he could think was-

_Well shit._

He hurried to the backroom and he was somewhat of a daze because he didn’t even notice the presence of an extra adult in the room until they tapped him on the back.

“Bahorel?” Grantaire asked confused. “What are you-”

“I’m sorry dude.” Bahorel said, actually looking the part. “They needed me tonight. There were some contacts who wanted me there when they-”

“I have a phone, you have a phone. You could have at least warned-”

They were interrupted by a loud cry of “Papa!” and Grantaire turned around swiftly. He saw Belle in Feuilly’s arms and he glared at Bahorel who took no notice. Feuilly was walking over to them. Belle’s hands were tugging at his shirt but he was smiling.

“She’s so adorable and she talks just about as much as you do.” Feuilly said amused at the way Belle puffed up in his arms. When he looked up at Grantaire and took in his expression he said as soothingly as he possibly could. “Hey no I get it. No one will find out about her from me.”

Grantaire felt way more relieved than he should have. He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much. He was overprotective of her yes, but the thought of any of them meeting her made him feel an extraordinary nervousness that wasn’t typically there when he was worried about her.

“Mister R can we do drawings now!” One of the newer boys yelled from across the room and just like that Grantaire’s attention was taken away from the situation.

*

Enjolras noticed Grantaire come in when he was on the stage but he didn’t have time to stop and ask him why he was so late. They were paying him for his services; the very least he could do was be on time. Enjolras mulled over talking to him about it later when the kids were gone.

It was only after, when he was complaining to Feuilly and Joly, that they warned him against it.

“He was late.” Joly shrugged. “It was the first time. If he’s late like this again, _then_ we’ll talk to him.”

“You all seem pretty content with excusing irresponsibility when it comes to taking care of the children _we’re_ in charge of.” Enjolras said with his brows raised.

“We’re not and you know it.” Feuilly said calmly, running his hand behind his ear. “Sister Simplice arrived late several times and we understood. We just sent me or Bahorel in the back until she came. I think you might want to look into why everything Grantaire does bothers you so much when you can excuse it in anybody else.”

Feuilly always had a way of making you feel bad about things that you already know are wrong in the most subtle ways. It was an annoying skill to have. He would be a brilliant father when the time came.

But contrary to popular belief, Enjolras knew how to be a decent person. Bending his outlook to suit someone else’s however, was a different matter entirely. He refused to do it. The way he saw it, you could take away everything he had and if he still had his beliefs, his passion, his fervour, he had all that he needed. He was a straight line. There was no bending when it came to him. He understood where that might be something of a character flaw, but he refused to change for anyone. So Enjolras didn’t think he was wrong this time. He wasn’t going to yell at the guy for being late once. He was just planning on doing what he should have done in the first place. Find out more about his schedule on a Thursday, ask him if his lateness would be a typical reoccurrence. These were things he needed to know. Things they all needed to know.

When he entered the room he wasn’t sure what to expect. All of his friends saw Grantaire as capable so he didn’t think it would be complete chaos but they _were_ children and primary school aged children at that. So he was shocked to see twenty or so children sitting around Grantaire, one little girl on his lap and Aiden at his side as he told them a story about what sounds like a princess protecting her castle from some sort of evil monster with the help of a friendly troll. The children would give their input every now and then to change the course of the story. It was oddly charming and Enjolras felt his chest tighten at the sight. He was about to walk away from when Grantaire caught sight of him.

“Uncle Enjolras what do you think.” He asked with a grin.

“About?” Enjolras cleared his throat.

“Should the princess use her magic fire power or her magic green goo power to attack the spider monster?” Of course. That made sense. Still Enjolras quirked his lips as Grantaire and the children looked at him attentively awaiting his response.

“Fire power would make sense.” Enjolras suggested. A few of the children wrinkled their nose and Aiden even went so far as to groan. “But the goo would be much better.” He relented.

Grantaire quirked his lips and turned back to the crowd continuing his story as if Enjolras wasn’t there anymore. He tried not to feel disappointed at that. There was nothing to be disappointed about.

He turned around and headed back to his friends. Combeferre and Feuilly were busy talking to a student who goes to their university and Courfeyrac was talking to a parent so he headed over to Jehan, the only one who was sitting on his own writing something in a notebook. Jehan was the best person to talk to a lot of the time. He was one of the few persons who didn’t spare your feelings when he thought you needed to hear something.

“Do you think I’m too hard on the people I disagree with?”

“Yes,” Jehan glanced up at him with a meaningful look. “The world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters.”

“I don’t think-”

“And we’re an education rights group Enjolras.” Jehan continued seriously. “Some people need to be _educated_ as opposed to yelled at. That’s why the new parents tend to be more receptive towards Combeferre and Feuilly until they’ve sat in at a few meetings. We love you Enjolras and your passions are part of the reason why, but you’re too dogmatic.” Jehan smiled at him and Enjolras sighed.  “But I’m assuming this is about something specific and not in general.”

“It’s been called to my attention that I’ve been harder on our new day care attendant than I should be.” Enjolras supplied.

“Grantaire?” Jehan asked thoughtfully. He looked up at Enjolras and nodded slowly. “Well I can see where they’re coming from, but if it’s worth anything he hasn’t made any attempts to be best friends with you either.”

“So we’re both wrong then?” Enjolras said. Better work relationships call for effort on _both_ parts and when he said as much Jehan nodded, sticking the end of his pen in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t use the word _wrong_ per se, no one can be friends with _everyone_ , but you’re both to blame yes.” Jehan turned back to his notebook. “Maybe you should invite him to breakfast with us, see if he comes. Bahorel doesn’t come to every one of them but he stops by often enough and he’s family at this point.”

Enjolras considered it. After all Grantaire would be a bigger part of their lives in the coming future if he chose to stay on. Enjolras would just have to make an effort to be nicer and hope that Grantaire would do the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i said that Enjolras and Grantaire's opinions on Dickens weren't also the author's i'd be lying


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was one thing that Grantaire hated, it would be candy based holidays. They were days that were designed for no other reason than to drive parents crazy.

The next month passed by almost in a blur. Grantaire was ridiculously busy. He’d never been so busy in his life. Not even when Belle was a baby and he felt like he was going crazy. Marius had become fast friends with Eponine and Bahorel and him and he was practically a reluctant new member of their unofficial single _parents ‘you’re a good asshole that I can drop my kid off with when I have something I need to do’_ group. They were looking for a new name. Unofficially. There was the day care facilities that he took care of every week, which was time consuming enough but it was only _once_ a week. Bahorel’s friends however, were also really interested in becoming _Grantaire’s_ friends as well. Strangely enough Grantaire found that he didn’t mind. They were an interesting group and Grantaire found it oddly refreshing to have conversations with other human beings that didn’t involve the term ‘terrible twos’ or bill expenses or nonsensical cartoon characters or candy. 

All Belle talked about for the entire month of February was Valentine’s Day. Her teacher told her that everyone in her class had to give a Valentine to each student so Grantaire spent the entire night after coming home from the community centre cutting decorative cardboard and kite and crèche paper into hearts until there were fourteen different Valentine’s rested on the kitchen counter. He fell asleep with glitter on his hands.

If there was one thing that Grantaire hated, it would be candy based holidays. They were a nightmare. Halloween, Easter, Christmas, Valentine’s Day.  They were all days that were designed for no other reason than to drive parents crazy. He’d already given Belle two pieces of chocolate and then she managed to puppy dog eye her way into four more pieces and that was just from _him_. He saw Bahorel sneak her some Hershey’s and Eponine give her some skittles and that wasn’t even counting what she was already given at day care that day. He was a good parent- well at least he tried to be a good one where it counted- but a disciplinarian he was not.

Feuilly, when Grantaire had explained this to him, told him that Belle would have him wrapped around her little finger when she gets old enough to know how. Grantaire thought it best not to mention that he already was. As the weeks passed by, Grantaire’s reaction to Feuilly knowing about Belle was something that still took him by surprise. It made him think. Sitting in a room week after week while his kid fell asleep in someone else’s flat? It just didn’t make sense anymore. When he considered it properly, he would much rather it if Belle were by his side instead of him leaving her with Eponine every week. Bahorel kept telling him that if his overprotective tendencies got any worse he’d end up shooting the person who eventually asks Belle for her hand in marriage in the face and the killer is, he probably wasn’t wrong.

With Feuilly, it was strange though. He had this calming presence that was different to the one Combeferre had. It made Grantaire feel less nervous of the prospect of Belle having people in her life outside of him, Eponine and Bahorel.

He saw the way Courfeyrac would hold Aiden in his arms and spin him around in a circle with a grin and the way Musichetta and Joly tickled him until he was crying with laughter, the way Combeferre would gently correct him when he did or said something wrong and get him to consider making a different choice, the way Jehan would read to him or the way Bossuet lifted him above his shoulders, Belle should have that. A family. More than anything she deserved to be loved in that way.

His daughter was at the moment, currently running about Eponine’s flat with Aiden and Gavroche, screaming and Grantaire prepared himself for the restless energy and the possible stomach ache that would come later. Fucking Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day was never really depressing for Grantaire like it was for most single people. Grantaire was no neophyte to loneliness, but he has never been alone. He always had his friends. Sometimes he missed it of course. The intimacy that came with a physical or a romantic relationship. But in the long run it wouldn’t be a good idea. No one his age was looking for someone with a kid. If he didn’t have Belle he would have probably run away screaming at the idea of being with someone with _that_ much baggage.

Marius didn’t understand how Grantaire could think that way. When he’d come over that evening, excitedly raving about some chestnut haired beauty he saw on his way home with his little sister in his arms Grantaire just looked at him as though he were insane. Bahorel was amused and Eponine was silent, but Grantaire- he was confused.

“Okay so let’s say that this girl doesn’t have you arrested for stalking? Do you _really_ think she’d want to be with someone with _your_ specific brand of responsibilities?” Grantaire asked as delicately as he possibly could.

“She wouldn’t- I didn’t _stalk_ her!” Marius said indignantly focusing on the first section of Grantaire’s question. He was still pacing, holding Angelette absentmindedly in his arms while Grantaire, Bahorel and Eponine sat on the couch looking at him.

Bahorel chuckled, “I thought you said you followed her for two blocks. I’m no lawyer mate, but I think that’s called stalking.”

“I didn’t- It wasn’t planned.” Marius protested and the baby he was holding was starting to stir. He was beginning to look distressed and Eponine walked up to him and took Angelette from his arms. Eponine and Angelette had grown closer and closer since Marius became a constant part of their lives. When Marius had finally accepted their help on a more regular basis, the biggest tantrum could settle into happy gurgles once Eponine had gotten a hold of her.

(Marius’ involvement in their life happened mainly due to Grantaire and Eponine’s prodding.

Even after Eponine’s initial assistance, he seemed reluctant to impose on their company any more than necessary. Grantaire had started taking to inviting him over every time he saw him looking more ragged than usual at work and Eponine made surprise visits to his inexpensive, little flat under the guise of ‘being in the neighbourhood’ to help out with the baby.

His pride wouldn’t let him be more of an annoyance than he already thought he was. He didn’t start coming around regularly or even _asking_ for their help until Bahorel had boxed him in the ear and told him:

“We’re your _friends_ asshole. Friends help each other out. It’s kind of the whole point.”)

“So you’re in love,” Eponine said glaring at Bahorel and Grantaire for god knows what reason. “I think that’s great Marius. Just because Grantaire’s terrified of love, doesn’t mean that you should let him get to you.”

Marius beamed at her and Eponine cracked a smile at that.

“Okay so maybe I’m wrong and you came across the one twenty something year old willing to settle down into motherhood when she has the rest of her life ahead of her.” Grantaire shrugged. He glanced at Belle who was sitting in the corner with Aiden and Gavroche who seemed to be instructing them on the proper etiquette while playing tag.

(Grantaire remembered when he wasn’t sure if Gavroche would even want to be around Belle or even Aiden given that he was at the age where he believed cooties were real and that their age differences were actually a difference.

His worries were misplaced of course.

The two children adored Gavroche, they practically idolised him and he preened under the attention, taking his role as mentor and role model very seriously.)

Grantaire couldn’t imagine his life without Belle. He doesn’t even want to think about what his life would look like without her. But he would admit that if Belle’s mum was just a one night stand and they weren’t friends before they started sleeping together, he wasn’t sure how willing he would have been to accept Belle into his life at nineteen. Luckily for him he’d never have to truly know how he would have reacted under different circumstances, but kids were a big responsibility. For anyone. Even middle aged people settled in successful careers.

“Maybe.” Marius said dolefully. He sat next to Bahorel and his shoulders were slumped.

Eponine was still glaring at him and Grantaire was starting to feel bad even though he didn’t say a thing that he didn’t genuinely believe.

“Dude, you need to get laid.” Eponine said patting him on the shoulder before going to her room most likely to put Angelette down in the cot there. Bahorel smirked at him and Marius was frowning thoughtfully.

“You know what Marius,” Grantaire relented with a sigh. “Perhaps I’m wrong. I tend to be wrong more often than not anyway. Just look on the bright side though. You still have at least this last year where you can find your anonymous gal can and spend Valentine’s Day together without it being a fucking nightmare.”

As if to prove his point Belle ran up to him and started babbling about the intricacies of playing hide and seek, which Grantaire apparently could never understand unless he played it with them.  Grantaire obliged her easily and she managed to cajole both Marius and Bahorel into playing it with them as well. He couldn’t help thinking, _that girl could be president one day_.

When Eponine walked out of her bedroom to see three grown men crawling around her living room floor looking for a place to hide, she gaped at the three of them for a moment before bursting out into laughter and joining them on the floor.

“Okay. So what are we playing then?”

When it was time to take Belle home she didn’t even look anywhere near tired. Marius had left a while ago, Bahorel was still trying to get Aiden in one place long enough for him to catch the kid and Eponine had long given up on getting Gavroche to calm down and eat his dinner. Fucking Valentine’s Day.

Belle was still bouncing up and down even as she had her arms flung around Grantaire’s neck and he held her on the side of his waist. Even on the way home, Grantaire played her songs from My Little Pony and she sang along loudly, bouncing in the backseat. She seemed so happy that Grantaire stifled a yawn and ignored his burgeoning headache in favour of singing along with her. It was something he’d grown used to, pretending that headaches and tiredness were just figments of his imagination. It was better than the alternative of snapping at his kid when she really didn’t deserve it.

She was beginning to calm down by the time they got to the flat and when Grantaire had finished bathing her and putting her blue Power Rangers nightgown on, she had worked herself to exhaustion. She only protested slightly as he tucked her in.

“Do you want me to read to you tonight, or would you rather I make up a story?” Grantaire asked as she yawned.

“Charlotte’s Web.” She suggested and Grantaire picked up the book at the side of her bed with a smile.

He had barely finished with the first two paragraphs before she was conked out. She looked like an angel when she slept. Grantaire considered going to his room and catching up on the sleep he so desperately needed, but he was exhausted and the idea of moving from Belle’s very comfortable bed seemed like more of a hassle than necessary. _I’ll only lie here for a moment_ , he thought as his eyes fluttered close.

 

He startled awake with a jolt when he felt something in his pockets begin to vibrate. The sky was dark when he looked out the window and when he looked at his phone and it was only just about midnight, which meant he didn’t sleep too long in her room. The text was from Courfeyrac but he didn’t bother checking it. His neck was stiff and his elbow had a crick in it. Belle’s bed was far too small for both of them to sleep there comfortably, yet this wasn’t the first time Grantaire had fallen asleep in it. He was removing her arms from where they were clutching tightly at his shirt as gently as possible when he heard her speak.

“Is love a bad thing Papa?” Belle asked him sleepily as he was getting up to leave. He wasn’t sure if it was him shifting that caused her to wake but he vowed to be quieter the next time he left her room.

“Of course not ducky” Grantaire said brushing her hair back with his fingers. She was still at the age where every child in class was obligated to give someone a valentine, so he was really hoping nothing went wrong with that. “Did something happen in school today?”

Belle shook her head sleepily. “I heard Auntie Ponine say that you were too scared to love anyone earlier. Is love scary?”

“It can be.” Grantaire replied carefully. “But a lot of good things can be scary. Do you remember your first day at maternelle? How terrified you were? You were so scared to meet new people and you were worried about whether or not anyone would like you?”

Belle looked at him curiously and nodded slowly.

“Well that’s what love’s like sometimes. Scary. You might want to run away from it at first but the scary part fades so quickly and then it’s just amazing and perfect.”

“Were you scared to love me?” She asked as her eyes began to flutter shut again.

“Not in a million years.” Grantaire replied and it wasn’t so much a lie as it was a tiny deception. He was terrified at the thought of loving her and even more so at the thought of _her_ loving him, relying on him, depending on him. He still is at times.

She was still stirring slightly but her eyes were shut and Grantaire kissed her on the forehead before whispering goodnight and heading to his own room. He really needed to have a talk with Eponine about watching their conversations around Belle, but in his heart he didn’t regret having that conversation with Belle even if she most likely wouldn’t remember it come morning.

Grantaire collapsed on his bed and he knew he was in for a restless night. He either got his eight hours completely or he didn’t. He checked his phone

**Courfeyrac [12:11 AM]:** we’re all going clubbing now if you want to come along

Grantaire chuckled and answered in the negative. His clubbing days were long over.

 

After a night that mainly consisted of tossing and turning, he woke up to the most wonderful discovery that his coffeemaker had passed away sometime during the night. Grantaire didn’t groan and grumble about it because it was only half six in the morning and Belle wouldn’t be up for another two hours. Him on the other hand, he’ll be wide awake with no coffee and absolutely nothing addictive to substitute for his personality so early in the morning.

It was early so no one he knew would be awake enough to listen to him bitch about it. Still that didn’t stop him from texting Eponine and explaining and then sending five frowny faces in a row. When she woke up she’d see it and give him all her sympathies. He couldn’t exactly afford a new one until his next two paycheques which meant that he’d have to go to the cafe downstairs to get his daily indulgence and given that Belle didn’t wake up until eight on most every morning, and he tended to wake up at the ass crack of day he’d have to spend the next two months having his coffee much later than usual which was not going to be a pleasant experience for him.

He wondered how to spend the next few hours until Belle woke up. He decided on taking his sketchbook from under the couch and starting to flip through it. There was barely anything substantial in it. A sketch of Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac as the Powerpuff Girls that Bossuet had begged him to do a while back. He never did show it to him. A drawing of Belle in a princess gown that he did when he was bored at work. A drawing of Bahorel in a princess gown that he did when he was bored at work. A drawing of Enjolras in a princess gown that he also did when he was bored at work. A drawing of Eponine in battle armour. (Because as much as he loved drawing pretty dresses, she would most likely defenestrate him if he drew her as a princess.) So he decided that he needed to add to his princess collection quite obviously. Courfeyrac would make a lovely princess.

It was at almost eight while he was attempting to sketch pure nonsense in one of his newer sketchbooks when he heard a key twist in a lock that sounded a lot like salvation.

If asked he would definitely not mention bursting out of his front door like a thirsty man lost in the desert discovering his first mirage, but when he opened his door and saw his neighbour coming back inside with her mail in her hand he smiled as charmingly as he could while looking as though he hadn’t slept in ten years.

“Cosette. How goes it?”

“Fine.” Cosette looked at him. She looked amused and far too alert for anyone to be at this time. “You?”

“My coffee machine’s broken.” Grantaire supplied.

She nodded as though that explained everything. “If you’ve come to beg me for coffee, you know I don’t drink the stuff.”

“And I still say you’re insane.” Grantaire replied shaking his head with a grimace. How the fuck could one person look so perky without the assistance of coffee was beyond him.

“Well since you’re the junkie standing on my doorstep, I’m fine with being _insane_.” Cosette retorted with a grin and Grantaire groaned miserably

“If you want though,” she started thoughtfully, taking pity on him. “I can watch Belle for a few minutes while you run to the cafe downstairs.”

“You’re a goddess with a capital G Cosette.” Grantaire said kissing her on the cheek before running back inside. Belle, who slept like the dead, barely stirred as he took her in his arms and adjusted her so that her head lay on his shoulders.

Cosette smiled with a little pout and led them both inside when Grantaire came out with her. “I want one.”

“Wait a year.” Grantaire said as he headed inside with Cosette and settled Belle on the couch. “Or ten.”

Cosette waved her hands laughing him off. “If she wakes up I’ll give her apple juice until you get back.”

Grantaire nodded his assent.

The cafe downstairs was basically a dive and they would probably get absolutely no service if their coffee wasn’t like liquid crack. Grantaire was sure that if Joly stepped one foot in the place he’d try to have it condemned which would be a damn shame, he thought as he trudged down the stairs of the tenements he lived in.

The morning air was brisk and Grantaire regretted trekking down in his old, ratty sweatshirt and pyjama pants.

He stood in the line with the other people who were, like him, lazily awaiting their reason for being. When he placed his order he made sure to order two large cups and practically inhaled the first one before paying his bill. The woman at the counter looked far too amused for someone who worked in a coffee shop. He was certain that there were people far more addicted than he was. Probably. There might be one or two people.

He stepped away from the line and stood by the counter sipping his second cup and breathing far more easily. It was only when he saw a familiar head of blond hair in the line that Grantaire seemed to arise from his caffeine induced stupor. What on earth would Enjolras be doing in this neighbourhood was beyond him. It wasn’t as if he had had many conversations with the golden haired man to know much about how he was brought up, but he practically reeked of money. It was obvious in the way he dressed, the way he talked and even the way he carried about himself most of the time. Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t live in the same neighbourhood quite figuratively and literally.

Grantaire never put it in his coffee so he didn’t even realise that he was standing in front of the basket with Splenda until Enjolras made his way over to him.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras exclaimed when he caught sight of him, surprise tinting his voice. Grantaire was suddenly strongly aware of how much he looked like a homeless person.

“Hey.” Grantaire cleared his throat and attempted a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Courfeyrac introduced me to this place a few months ago and I haven’t been able to drink coffee anywhere else since.” Enjolras said with a wry smile. “What about you?”

“I live in the one of the apartments upstairs actually.” Grantaire said easily.

“Oh.” Enjolras set about adding an obscene amount of sugar to his coffee. He looked across at Grantaire’s face wrinkled in disgust and rolled his eyes. “Combeferre always says I put too much sugar in my coffee.”

“Well Combeferre always speaks sense.”

This was one of the most civil and inane conversations they’ve had with each other and it was probably only because they were both dead on their feet but Grantaire wasn’t sure if he wanted to ruin it. Him being an asshole when he thought someone was potentially likeable was practically commonplace by now, but he didn’t have it in him to pick a fight when this early, when everything was so easy and calm. Now would be the perfect time to make his leave. To walk up to the counter, ask for his pastries that had to be finished by now, instead he found himself saying:

“Bahorel’s coming by in a few hours. You can come up if you want.” Grantaire silently cursed himself for the invitation. He and Enjolras were not friendly enough for that request to sound anything but awkward and peculiar and he was just about to take it back when Enjolras poked his arm as if waiting for him to say something.

“I mean I’m sure you’re very busy and you don’t need me irritating you.” Grantaire said hurriedly when he realised he didn’t hear what Enjolras had said.

“Not really.” Enjolras shrugged taking a big gulp of his coffee and outside of the meetings Enjolras seemed much calmer. His face was still stern and looked though it belonged to an avenging angel or something else with an equal penchant for justice fuelled murder, his stance was still stiff, but he still looked peaceful somehow. “As I said, I don’t mind.”

“Oh.” Grantaire said, not entirely sure what to do with himself.  “Well you can- I mean we can- That’s nice.”

Enjolras somehow managed to conjure the sun and hide it in his smile and Grantaire tried not to let himself seem too affected by it.

Grantaire walked to the cashier and Enjolras followed him. The box of breakfast pastries was waiting there for him and when he showed the lady at the counter his bill, she handed it to him with a distracted shove.

“Is Aiden coming with Bahorel?” Enjolras asked as they headed outside. Enjolras held the door open for him and Grantaire nodded his thanks.

“Of course he is. He always does.” Grantaire replied and Enjolras hummed his response.

They walked up the three stories to Grantaire’s flat in a not quite comfortable silence. Grantaire was certain that the awkwardness was all on his side. When his aversion to the man blossomed into a strange and confused admiration, he had made a point to stay away from him or pick a stupid, pointless argument whenever they had to talk.

Grantaire was twenty one, a high school drop out, the single father of a toddler and living on minimum wage. He didn’t have the time, the energy or the luxury to fall in love with someone who was by all means ready to take change by the hand and singlehandedly navigate it through the world. This was not a cheesy rom-com. _He didn’t need a crush._ Especially not on someone like Enjolras. Someone who wanted to and would most likely succeed in changing the face of the education system. Someone who by all logic would loathe the idea of being tied down the way Grantaire was.

Love was a strong word in any case. The jump from thinking the guy was a douchebag to absolutely admiring him to constantly arguing with him came so fast that Grantaire was sure that he was giving himself mental whiplash. If anything, with the way he was acting, this was a schoolgirl crush that would fade in time like they always do. Grantaire needed to get a grip on himself. After all he still thought that the guy was an asshole. No one just randomly starts liking a person because they’re pretty and good with words. He’s just an asshole who isn’t as full of shit as Grantaire had previously thought. That was it.

Still, Enjolras was smiling at him tentatively and the guy wasn’t one for smiling often and he had been trying to be nicer to Grantaire and Grantaire knew it. Grantaire could at least try to meet him halfway. Or quarter way. Over the past few months he’s made a few friends and while it _was_ agonizing and time consuming it wasn’t _as_ agonizing or as time consuming as he thought it would be. Maybe having _another_ friend wouldn’t hurt.

Grantaire’s hands fumbled twice as he opened the door and he led Enjolras inside hoping that he’d ignore the faint blush of embarrassment on his cheek. Pretty people are so stupid. They make him stupid.

He was about to offer him tea even though they were both still drinking their coffee just for something to do when he heard the excited squeals of a little girl coming from next door. Belle. And he didn’t forget her. He didn’t. He just- fuck.

“I’ll be back in five minutes.” Grantaire said somewhat distractedly.

He rushed over to Cosette’s, not waiting for Enjolras’ response. When he pushed the door open he saw Belle still on the couch, except she was awake and Cosette was tickling her stomach.

“Hey you!” Cosette said looking up at him all smiles. “And here we thought you’d abandoned us.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose on your kindness for so long.” Grantaire said looking at Cosette apologetically. “I met a friend and I got caught up.”

“It’s no big deal. It wasn’t even half an hour. She only woke up a few minutes ago” Cosette said smiling at him and patting Belle’s belly to her delight. “Anyway this little lady needs more female influence in her life. She told me you bought her a Barbie doll for Christmas when she asked for a ragdoll. That’s just...there’s a difference.”

“There is?” Grantaire asked curiously because he...did not know that. Belle was jumpy like she was on some mornings and she nodded fervently as Cosette chuckled.

“Oh my word, you’re as hopeless as my Papa was.” She said, shaking her head fondly. “Although he did buy me the grandest doll once. He called it a Barbie too.” She rolled her eyes at that.

Grantaire remembered Cosette father. The day Cosette moved in next door she and her father and came over to introduce themselves he stood in front of her protectively as though he was afraid Grantaire would bite her if he gave him the chance. Grantaire understood the impulse. 

“And how did he learn?” Grantaire asked genially.

“He learned by sheer force of will.” Cosette replied solemnly. “Also I was adorable as fu- heck and hard to refuse.”

“Well Belle definitely has that going for her.” Grantaire said, crouching down next to Cosette, taking Belle by her hands and sitting her up. “Don’t you?”

Belle nodded distractedly as she noticed Cosette’s hands moving away from her. Grantaire was sure she wasn’t even fully paying attention to the two of them beyond Cosette’s tickling skills.

“Hey duckling.” Grantaire said using her favourite pet name. “I have a friend who came by to visit. If you want though, I can send him away.”

He felt like shit about it. He had no right to ambush Belle with random people she didn’t know without asking her first.

“No Papa.” Belle said shaking her head sternly. “Friends are _good_.”

“I know they are little duck. But you’re better.” Grantaire said tapping her nose lightly with his finger. “So if _you’re_ good with them then I am too.”

He helped Belle stand up and kept her little hand in his and looked down at her. “Tell Auntie Cosette thank you for watching you.”

“Thanks Auntie Cosette.” Belle said obediently and Cosette just gently ruffled her already messy hair.

Grantaire took a deep breath and braced himself before smiling down at Belle.

“Let’s go meet Papa’s friend then.”

*

Grantaire’s apartment was small but it looked cosy and well lived in and cleaner than he expected. There _were_ toys all over the floor though- Aiden was probably over there a lot- and upon further inspection the walls looked like they were all drawn on. There was an obvious difference from where Grantaire had drawn and where a child had. Enjolras wanted to get up to examine it but he wasn’t sure if he could. Artists were so funny about their work a lot of the time. He was friends with Feuilly. He knew. Enjolras wondered about Grantaire’s safety deposit though, but if he were ever to move out he supposed Grantaire could just repaint the walls.

He was sitting on the couch in the living room waiting for Grantaire to return from wherever he’d fucked off to.

Grantaire had seemed distracted when he suddenly just upped and left which was- well it was rude for one, so Enjolras took the time to text Combeferre and let him know where he was. Combeferre’s response was almost instant.

**Combeferre [7:56AM]:** ???????

That was fair. Enjolras _had_ been trying to be nicer to Grantaire but apparently that was easier said than done. He never did manage to invite him to brunch with the rest of them. He had planned to. But every day he decided that this would be the day he was going to ask Grantaire would sit in at one of the meetings for five minutes and let out a derisive snort when Enjolras was talking and then abruptly up and go to the back and Enjolras would just change his mind about even wanting him there in the first place. Enjolras’ problem was that he couldn’t figure out the man. The more time he spent with him the more questions he had. Grantaire obviously didn’t seem to like him which was fine, and he was very open about viewing their goals as lofty and unreasonable so it kind of made sense that Grantaire didn’t like him given that he was part of the group that stood for those _‘lofty and unreasonable goals’_. But as the weeks passed by Grantaire managed to warm up to all of his friends as easily as anyone could expect. He, Joly and Bossuet could chat about anything for hours on end without growing bored of each other, he and Jehan discussed literature often veering into rare 19 th century Romanticism, Musichetta and him talked about her pet snake (and Enjolras had absolutely no opinions on that whatsoever) and he apparently offered to paint it for her one day and Courfeyrac had mentioned going to a movie with Grantaire and Bossuet a few times. He even had discussions with Combeferre about the downfalls of competitive examinations that never seemed to turn into arguments. It appeared the only person he couldn’t talk to civilly was Enjolras, which was fine. Enjolras didn’t need to be friends with him. They just needed to coexist peacefully. That’s what he told himself as he accepted Grantaire’s invitation to his place anyway. It was all in the hope of getting along with the man.

**Combeferre [7:58AM]:** That is to say, how did that happen?

**Enjolras [7:58AM]:** i met him at the cafe and he invited me up to his.

**Enjolras [7:58AM]:** i said yes.

**Combeferre [7:59AM]:** Well then, I hope you get whatever it is you wanted out of this visit.

Enjolras paused before answering that. Combeferre always had the talent for cutting through Enjolras’ chaotic thoughts and getting to the root of everything. Enjolras has always been a man of certainty, a man of conviction. He didn’t second guess and he didn’t do things impulsively or without thinking about it. He would have hardly accepted Grantaire’s request if he didn’t know exactly what he wanted from it whether it was subconsciously or not. He thought about it for a moment before he typed out a response.

**Enjolras [8:01AM]:** if by that you mean affability, then yes i hope so too.

Enjolras pocketed his phone when he heard the front door reopening. Grantaire walked in hurriedly which was of not much importance. What was important was that he had a girl who looked no more than three clutching the leg of his pyjama bottoms tightly. Her eyes were an eerily familiar shade of blue and they were wide as saucers as she looked at him. She had hair almost as wild as Grantaire’s and their skin tones were almost similar except that she was a shade lighter. In fact, much about her was similar to Grantaire outside of her big, blue eyes; her pug nose, the curve of her lips. She could be his sister. She could be his-

 “Enjolras,” Grantaire said looking down at the girl fondly. “This is my daughter, Belle.

And that was just-

Um.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends on a cliffhanger because I had to split it in two. The next chapter will be up by weekend hopefully.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being over here made him feel strange. It was a Saturday. There were so many things he could be doing. He could be at the library studying so that he doesn’t fall behind with his studies. He could be planning next Thursday’s meeting with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Instead he was sitting on the sofa with Grantaire and his daughter watching cartoons, and he couldn’t find it in himself to get up and say “Well this has been fun, but I should go now.”

_“Enjolras,” Grantaire said looking down at the girl fondly. “This is my daughter, Belle._

_And that was just-_

_Um._

“Um.” Enjolras said intelligently.

The girl- Belle clutched Grantaire’s leg and tucked her face into the side of his knee.

“She’s a little shy around strangers.” Grantaire said, shifting awkwardly as Enjolras remained silent. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to say.

_What the fuck?_

_Well then. You’re new. Why have I never heard of you until now?_

_Hey Grantaire I didn’t know you had a secret daughter, thanks for telling me about her though?_

None of those really worked so he just said _‘um’_ again.

He made speeches. Mastering words were his forte. Writing speeches and delivering them to crowds of people was one of the things he was best at. Big crowds. Small crowds. Unruly crowds. Yet all he could say was:

“Um.”

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked cautiously. He hadn’t moved from where he was standing after shutting the front door.

“It’s nice to meet you Belle.” Enjolras said, attempting a smile. Grantaire raised a brow at him, so maybe his effort didn’t really pay off, before nodding at the girl encouragingly and she smiled.

“Nice to meet you too Monsieur...”

“Enjolras.” Grantaire supplied helpfully.

“Monsieur Enjas.” Belle said her brows were furrowed as she tried to pronounce his name. The air in the room was slightly tense but the girl (Grantaire’s daughter. He should probably get used to that. Grantaire’s _daughter_. Because Grantaire has a daughter) stuck her thumb in her mouth and paid the atmosphere around her no mind.

“Let’s get you some breakfast ducky.” Grantaire said pulling her thumb out of her mouth with a reproachful look. “M. Enjolras can come join us in the kitchen if he likes.”

It was obviously not a suggestion given the way Grantaire looked at him sharply before walking away with his child in hand but Enjolras wasn’t positive that joining them would be the best idea. When Enjolras was confused he needed time to process. He took out his phone and started typing out a text.

 **Enjolras [8:15AM]:** if someone you’ve known for almost three months neglects to tell you they have a child what are y

He erased it before he even finished typing it out. Combeferre was no fool. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out why Enjolras even asking that question and even though Enjolras didn’t really know Grantaire’s reasons for keeping Belle a secret, he was her father and they were _his_ reasons. Enjolras has dealt with enough parents to at least respect that. Instead, he stood up and walked to the kitchen hesitantly.

He wasn’t exactly the best with children, which was something he was still working on but it was just _breakfast_. Nothing to be worried about.

When he entered he saw Grantaire sitting on a stool and Belle sitting on a smaller and more secure chair. Grantaire smiled tentatively when he saw him and when Belle turned around and smiled toothily at him as well, Enjolras was certain that he made the right choice.

“What are we having for breakfast?” He asked sitting on a stool opposite the two and Grantaire grinned at him. Belle started chattering excitedly about something that sounded like candy and Valentine’s Day at her school while Grantaire nodded along like she was telling the most interesting story in the world. Enjolras settled in his chair and looked at the two of them and how easily they seemed to communicate with each other and he suppressed a smile.

Belle and Grantaire were nothing like his own family. He observed them all through breakfast as Grantaire alternated between talking to him and talking to her, treating her as though her input in the conversation was as valid as his own. 

After breakfast Grantaire took Belle and gave her a bath leaving Enjolras to peruse his bookshelf which was much more diverse than his own. He tended to stick to political theory which Grantaire apparently had in his possession as well. There were books like Mein Kampf and The Communist Manifesto and The Social Contract but then there were novels like Aesop’s Fables, Alice in Wonderland, Horton Hears a Who and then The Odyssey and The Aeneid and The Illiad, which made sense given the amount of mythology Grantaire quotes regularly. It was expected of course, the books he kept given that he worked in a bookstore and he had a kid, but Enjolras felt slightly bad for underestimating the curly haired man in the initial stages of their acquaintanceship.

By the time they came out Enjolras was flipping through an Enid Blighton book that he remembered reading as a child. Grantaire cleared his throat alerting Enjolras to his presence and Enjolras felt his cheeks redden while Grantaire looked on in amusement. Belle was wearing a purple and white dress. She smiled at him, all dimples and teeth and Enjolras was enchanted despite himself.

“Do you want to watch her while I go bathe?” Grantaire asked, but it wasn’t really that much of a question since he sat her on the couch with a colouring book and some crayons, and gave him a stern frown that looked strange on his face, before rushing off.

“Do you like to colour Monsieur Enjas?” She asked hesitantly while Enjolras’ eyes were wide and very much trained on Grantaire’s bedroom door.

“Yes.” Enjolras lied with a shrug. “But I’d much rather watch you colour.”

She beamed at him and put her book down on the kitchen table and got to work. She showed him her progress every once and a while waiting for him to ooh and aah before burying her face in the book once more.

When Grantaire finally emerged from his room, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Nine Inch Nails band tee that revealed off a lot of his tattoos that Enjolras hadn’t seen before and fiddling with his phone, they retired to the living room where Belle sat next to them as she watched her cartoons.

She turned to Grantaire a lot to ask him questions or to point out something that she thought was very important in the show. There was a lot of nudging and hugging and kisses on the cheek and on the forehead and on the nose and pinching of the cheeks and by the time half an hour had passed, Belle was sitting, legs folded on the floor and Grantaire was absentmindedly stroking her hair. It was peculiar to be around. Enjolras’ parents were never very touchy-feely. They weren’t _bad_ parents of course. He had no doubt that they love him very much. But they were never very tactile people. Combeferre always told him that his penchant for being so affectionate around his friends was because of the lack of warmth that he received during his childhood, but Enjolras had thought that that sounded too much like psychobabble that he really had no interest in pursuing. Nevertheless, as he looked at the way Belle and Grantaire interacted with each other, there was a strange pang in his chest.

He asked Grantaire about the walls when a commercial break came on and Grantaire explained it to him with a far away frown.

“I never really got the chance to be creative the way I wanted to be when I was a kid. It was always  _organised fun_. I don’t want that for Belle. I want my kid to be free to get the chance to express herself positively, instead of-” He cut himself off with a twist of his lips. “In all honesty I could just be over thinking it. I tend to do that but I think creative expression is important. I want her to know I respect that part of her y’know?”

Enjolras nodded but he wasn’t sure if he really did. He needed to do some research on the pros and cons of children and artistic or creative environments before he decided on whether or not he agreed with him.

Being over here made him feel strange. It was a Saturday. There were so many things he could be doing. He could be at the library studying so that he doesn’t fall behind with his studies. He could be planning next Thursday’s meeting with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.  Instead he was sitting on the sofa with Grantaire and his daughter watching cartoons, and he couldn’t find it in himself to get up and say “Well this has been fun, but I should go now.”

Instead, when the inane cartoon about a sponge living in the ocean and making burgers with what has to be soggy bread came on, Enjolras asked with a grimace, “What time did you say Bahorel was coming over?” Courfeyrac and Combeferre watched it whenever it was on so he was well acquainted with the nonsense. Grantaire shot an irritated look at him until he took in his expression, which was obviously pained and smirked.

“You’re not a SpongeBob fan then?” He asked innocently. Enjolras glared in response.

Belle whipped her head around immediately, her inky curls flinging to the side and looked at him with childlike incredulity. All of her earlier shyness seemed to vanished as she asked him, “You don’t like SpongeBob?!”

“I don’t have that much of a problem with the show.” Enjolras said and it wasn’t really a lie. “It just doesn’t really seem all that plausible to me.”

Belle wrinkled her nose at him and she was about to open her mouth to say something when Grantaire nudged her side. She glanced at him curiously and he said, “He means it doesn’t make sense to him.”

“Oh. Well that doesn’t mean it’s not good.” Belle said petulantly turning back to the screen. “It’s just not good for _you_.”

“Combeferre would love her.” Enjolras said unthinkingly. He snapped his mouth shut when he actually registered his words. He had no idea if Grantaire even wanted Combeferre to meet his daughter. He’d kept her so hush-hush until now. Come to think of it he had no idea if Grantaire even wanted _him_ to meet his daughter and that this wasn’t just a fluke. He was about to take it back when Grantaire replied.

“Yeah.” he said, looking at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I think he would.”

When an entire episode was over, the front door swung open and a five year old bundle of energy flew into the flat and almost tumbled over Belle. Enjolras’ eyes widened until he noticed Bahorel trotting behind Aiden, seemingly unconcerned and Grantaire who was smiling at the two fondly instead of worrying. Belle herself was giggling when Aiden finally let up.

Bahorel looked at Enjolras cautiously before saying, “Hey man” cautiously but not all that surprised. Grantaire nodded at him and in some kind of unspoken agreement Bahorel just shrugged and made his way to them.

“What are you two doing?” Bahorel asked and Grantaire glared at him unexplainably. He was about to answer when Aiden interrupted his thoughts.

“SpongeBob!” he yelled excitedly when he deigned to stop tackling Belle and glance up at the telly.

Apparently he would be forever outnumbered when it came to this insipid show.

“Who lives in a pineapple under the tree?” Bahorel sang along under his breath.

Enjolras didn’t even bother sighing.

“I hear there was a death in the family.” Bahorel said, slightly louder this time.

“Don’t even fucking mention it.” Grantaire grumbled and then he looked at Enjolras and smirked. “He’s talking about my coffee machine by the way. You don’t have to look so uneasy posh boy.”

Enjolras wasn’t even sure what expression his face was making but Bahorel laughed at him.

“By the way. I told Feuilly he could come over later.” Bahorel said idly. “It’s a good thing anyway, Enjolras might actually be dying over here without anyone to talk about The Cause with.”

“I’m actually fine thank you.” Enjolras said cuttingly in the direction of Bahorel’s shameless grin.

“Why does that sound capitalized?” Grantaire asked, completely ignoring him, with an amused snort.

“Oh trust me. It is.” Bahorel chuckled. Enjolras rolled his eyes.

Registering Bahorel’s first sentence, Enjolras asked, “Feuilly knows about-um.” (He needed to eradicate that word from his vocabulary after today) He gestured to Belle who was chatting animatedly with Aiden about something to do with flying jellyfish and the _best day ever_.

He was usually so much more eloquent than this.

“Yeah. He...found out last month.” Grantaire said shifting uncomfortably. 

“I brought her to a meeting because I had no choice.” Bahorel shrugged, his eyes trained on the telly. “The rest is history.”

Watching the way Bahorel and Grantaire acted with their children was somewhat bizarre. It was different from earlier, when everything was lazy and relaxed. They moved as though they were synchronised both with their own children and the other’s. When Aiden wanted to blow his nose Grantaire had a tissue out before he even sniffled and Bahorel had the prescience to hold Belle’s forearms when she tried to imitate whatever was going on the show she and Aiden were watching and jump off the handles of the sofa and prevent her from falling without even taking his eyes off of Grantaire. It was all very Super Mom. When Enjolras pointed it out Grantaire started cackling.

“We’re like super dads then aren’t we?” He nudged Bahorel playfully.

“I guess it comes from habit.” Bahorel said, apparently serious.

Grantaire hummed his agreement and turned to Enjolras to explain. “We used to live together until Belle stopped sleeping in a crib. We kind of worked out something like a routine somewhere along the way.”

“Yeah the only kid I know better than R’s is my own.” Bahorel said with a quirk of his lips. Grantaire smiled at him fondly and Enjolras suddenly felt out of place. Like he was interrupting a moment that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

Luckily for him the moment was interrupted by a knock on the door. Grantaire hurried up to get it. His greeting was cut off by familiar yells of joy.

When Grantaire opened the door wider Enjolras saw Jehan and Courfeyrac standing outside Grantaire’s door with similar looks of delight and Feuilly standing next to them smiling sheepishly.

 _Well._ Enjolras thought to himself. _This is going to be interesting_.

*

Grantaire was going to kick Feuilly in the face. And okay, so maybe that sounded harsh, but Grantaire really wanted to kick Feuilly in the face. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t exactly his fault. Grantaire knew how persuasive Courfeyrac could be when he wanted to be and Jehan could pretty much guilt you into anything with a flutter of his eyelashes. So when Feuilly told them he was going to Grantaire’s and they decided to just tag along, he didn’t know what to do. If it were any other time, Grantaire would sympathise. As it was now, he did not.

It’s not that anything was going wrong so far. When Jehan and Courfeyrac got over their initial shock, they got along with Belle quite marvellously. Courfeyrac was currently chasing Aiden around the flat like the excitable little kitten that he was. And Jehan, who was for the moment Belle’s human racehorse was galloping towards the two. Grantaire was quite used to this form of horseplay in his living room but it was the first time in a long time that he wouldn’t be the person with a sore back after it.

“I’m going to kick you in the face.” Grantaire said pleasantly slumping in the armchair, looking at Feuilly who was talking to Enjolras and Bahorel on the sofa. Bahorel sniggered and Enjolras was looking at him reproachfully. 

It wasn’t like he was being 100% serious. Like only 20%. 25% for the most.

“It’s not my fault Bahorel called my when I was having coffee with them. It’s just circumstance. If only we had one of those clicky thingies from Men In Black. Your life would be so much easier. ” Feuilly said blithely.

Grantaire made a face at him. “Clicky thingies. You’ve always had a gift for eloquence my friend.”

Feuilly huffed. “We can’t all be a thousand words a minute like you.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes at that. He was about to respond when his phone started ringing. It was Eponine. It was about time that she called to offer her condolences. He was just about to say that when she cut his greeting across.

“Grantaire do you love me?” Eponine asked sweetly.

And Grantaire knew that tone. It was the tone she used when she needed something. Eponine was never sweet unless she needed something.

“That depends on why you’re asking?” He said amiably.

“It’s a simple question. Do you love me or not?” She asked, petulance beginning to colour her voice.

“Generally, yes.” He responded truthfully. “But that answer might change based on whatever it is you’re calling me for.”

“Jesus. Touchy.” She replied. “Marius is going flat hunting next Thursday so I can’t watch Belle.”

“That’s fine.” Grantaire shrugged. “I was actually considering other options actually.”

“Yeah that’s not the favour brainiac.” She said and he could practically hear the eye roll. “I need you to watch Gav.”

“You think he’s actually capable of staying in one place long enough for me to watch him?” Grantaire asked, amazed at her confidence in him.

“If you pray hard enough and click your heels together I’m sure you’ll do fine.” So maybe it was desperation instead of confidence.

“It’s like words are coming out of your mouth, but all I can hear is nonsense.” He said still deciding to tease instead of being serious.

“R! Be serious!”

“I’m wild.” Grantaire said with a grin.

“You’re a fucking prick is what you mean?” She said dryly.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend ever?”

(And Bahorel started laughing loudly and rather offensively if he might add.)

“I swear to God I will punch you in the fucking balls the next time I see you.” Eponine growled.

“Christ. I will watch your ruffian brat on Thursday Ep. No problem.” Grantaire replied. He might be somewhat terrified by her right hook. He’s seen Eponine floor men three times her size without breaking a sweat.

“You know that’s what I love to hear.” She said and hung up with a resounding click.

“Guess who’s watching Gavroche next Tuesday?” Grantaire asked the room.

“May the odds be ever in your favour.” Bahorel said with a solemn nod.

“They never really seem to be.” Grantaire said with a noncommittal wave of the hand.

“So does that mean that Belle’s coming to the next meeting?” Feuilly asked with a grin.

“I guess.” Grantaire replied reluctantly. It’s not like he had any other choice now.

“Who’s Gavroche?” Enjolras asked seemingly confused by the turn in the conversation.

“Eponine’s little brother.” Feuilly answered. “Belle stays with Eponine and him every week when we have our meetings.”

Enjolras, Bahorel and Grantaire stared at him.

“What?” He asked defensively. “I listen.”

 

Feuilly left before lunch claiming that he was late for his shift at the bar. They all waved him off happily. Even with one less Belle still seemed to bask under all the attention she was receiving. She soon dropped the formal Monsieur and had taken to calling them Uncle Enjas, Uncle Courf, Uncle Jehan and Uncle Feuilly.

They ordered Chinese after Feuilly left and Aiden decided to regale them with a dirty song he learned at kindergarten.

As soon as he finished singing “A soldier I will be.” Grantaire clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth.

“I know where your iO2 is.” He whispered and that shut Aiden up fast. He squirmed away from Grantaire’s grip and sat next to Belle again, a moody frown settling across his face.

“Ugh. I can’t believe they still sing that crap?” Bahorel groaned. He sounded more offended that his son was singing something so corny as opposed to the face that he was swearing _‘in secret’_.

“Yeah you’d think there’d be some form of originality since _our_ primary school days.” Courfeyrac replied.

Jehan shook his head with a smile. “Next he’ll be telling us to say one q, two q, three q....”

“I’ve never actually heard that song.” Enjolras offered, looking at where Aiden was pouting on the floor with his legs crossed. Belle was pestering him to explain the song and Grantaire was looking on in amusement as he kept tight lipped with a mutinous expression on his face.

“You cannot be real.” Grantaire said, astounded. “What private school hell did you go to that you were shielded from crappy songs like that?”

“Former private school hell attendee myself,” Jehan said, running a hand through his shaggy red hair. “I have no idea which one Enjolras went to that saved him from that, but I really wish I did.”

“I don’t think it was the school actually.” Enjolras said pensively. “I just didn’t really interact with other children that much until collége.”

“Of course.” Grantaire snorted because really- in what world is Enjolras the type who’s ever at any point in his life been friendless.  

Enjolras had that pinched lemon look like he was about to come back with a swift retort when Jehan promptly and skilfully changed the subject.

They went on to talk about education reform and Courfeyrac and Enjolras were eager to contribute to the conversation whilst Jehan, Bahorel and on occasion Grantaire interjected their say in between, but between the latter three, they mainly listened.

Aiden looked bored with their conversation; he probably had to deal with it at home too, the poor kid while Belle looked politely disinterested. (Grantaire wondered how she learned to master that expression. He still needed help with it.) Still when she wasn’t sure what they were talking about, she raised her head from her drawings to ask a question. Aiden did the same and soon enough the topic changed to something easier for them both to understand.

It felt strange, his flat being so full of this particular brand of chatter and laughter. He wasn’t exactly used to peace and quiet living with a rambunctious almost three year old and Bahorel and Aiden’s, Eponine, Gavroche and Azelma’s and even more recently Marius and Angelette’s on the rare occasion, constant presence. The air felt different. They were all adults in a different way that Grantaire’s new friends were. They had different worries and responsibilities and they could be light hearted of course, but it was just _different_. Courfeyrac’s warm and breezy nature, Jehan’s grave and peaceful one and even Enjolras’ passionate and intense one was still foreign to Grantaire. But completely welcome. It was... _good_. It was nice for Belle to see that growing up didn’t necessary have to mean more stress.

Belle and Aiden napped after lunch and still, everyone seemed happy to stay around. Something warm spread across Grantaire’s chest. He was truly beginning to understand why Eponine and Bahorel spent so much time stressing that he should have more adult friends.

It wasn’t until half five when Bahorel stood up and stretched, and said, it was just about time to start getting dinner together and he needed to go home that everything began to die down. Jehan and Courfeyrac said they would also make like a tree, but weirdly enough, Enjolras was the only one who wasn’t on the verge of leaving.

A few minutes before everyone decided that they were ready to go home, Belle had tugged on Enjolras’ sleeve and said in her most pleading voice.

“Mister Enjas can you plait my hair like yours?” She smiled innocently. “Papa can’t do a French braid properly.”

It was endearing and obviously Enjolras saw it that way too because he was still braiding her hair into the style that she had asked for when the rest of his friends were gathering their stuff to go and according to Jehan he hadn’t even started the twist yet, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Grantaire went to the kitchen sometime during all of that under the guise of getting some water because his heart was doing a weird fluttery thing as Enjolras and Belle interacted and he felt sick.

Bahorel walked in behind him with a grin and looked out at where Enjolras was saying something as he twisted Belle’s hair and she was laughing. “How domestic.”

Out of spite Grantaire didn’t even acknowledge that Bahorel was there until he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll see you next week then oh love of mine.”

Grantaire grabbed his arm with a firm grip and Bahorel grimaced.

“I don’t know how to deal with him alone.” Grantaire hissed. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Bahorel said. “You had half the morning to try.”

It was only when he was almost out of the door that Bahorel loudly said, “Maybe you two should talk about why you shit talk each other’s values so much. That’s a great conversation starter.”

Jehan punched Bahorel’s arm and Bahorel didn’t even pretend to wince. He just linked Jehan’s arms with his and grinned as they walked away. Courfeyrac steered Aiden by the shoulder and trotted on after the two flashing them a grin before shutting the door.

“Go fuck yourself.” Grantaire said belatedly with a grumble and he could still hear Courfeyrac and Bahorel’s laughter from all the way down the hall. Assholes.

“He does have a point.” Enjolras said coming to stand next to him. Belle had run to her room to admire her hair and it was just the two of them. 

“He’s Bahorel.” Grantaire snorted. “He never has a point.”

“You _do_ treat my opinions as though they’re dirt.  You either ignore them or mock them or both. I _am_ a person underneath my ideals.” Enjolras said with a huff. “I’m worthy of at least being listened to before I’m shot down. Some of my points do happen to be valid.”

“I listen to what you have to say. You _always_ have valid points Enjolras.” Grantaire replied with a sigh. He didn’t always agree with what Enjolras had to say, but he saw the value in his words. He felt like an idiot saying anything. Sincere confessions were never really his thing. “I never once said that you didn’t.”

*

“If you agree with me why do you always act as though I’m a moron who isn’t capable of critical thought?” Enjolras asked confused.

“I never actually _said_ I agreed with you.” Grantaire replied pressing his lips together. He looked almost disappointed and Enjolras was at a loss.

“Yes you did.” Enjolras said exasperatedly because he did have ears. “You _just_ said it, why are you denying it now? Isn’t there anything that warrants your conviction or do you just choose to change every opinion you hold on the slightest whim?”

“Wow. Is it physically painful for you to not be an asshole? Like do you get stomach aches? I’m just curious.” Grantaire asked lightly.

“Is it physically painful for you to agree with me when you obviously know I’m right?” Enjolras asked with a raised brow.

“I _would_ agree with you, if you were ever actually at any time entirely right?”

“Didn’t you just say that you thought my points were valid?” Enjolras asked, growing more frustrated by the moment. “Did that just suddenly fly out the window or do you just really enjoy being contrary?”

“Hearing what you want to hear seems to be a nice little quirk that you have?” Grantaire replied running his hands through his hair and Enjolras hated how he always got distracted when he did that. “Thinking your principles are convincing and actually agreeing with said principles happen to be two different things.”

“No they’re not. Not really. If you think what I have to say holds some form of merit it means that on some level you agree with me but then again I think rescinding what you’ve already said in order to make yourself look better is a popular quirk for you as well.” Enjolras pressed himself back into the kitchen counter trying to put as much distance between him and Grantaire as he possibly could.

Grantaire looked at him curiously and Enjolras felt himself tense in anticipation for whatever barb was about to leave his mouth.

“I had thought that you would actually like me better now.” Grantaire said with a more indolent air than before. “Bahorel told me that you respected parents.”

Which was ridiculous because Enjolras had never _disliked_ Grantaire. He just thinks that he’s woefully misguided about a lot of things that Enjolras could change his views on if he ever gave him the chance instead of just constantly belittling him.  He was about to say just that when Belle tugged at his jeans.

“Are you two fighting?” Belle asked, looking up at them with wide eyes and interrupting his response.

“Of course not little duck.” Grantaire said with a smile that was obviously forced. “We’re just having a friendly debate.”

“Grantaire.”

“I have to go start dinner soon.” Grantaire said, not looking at him. It was an obvious dismissal and Enjolras just nodded with pursed lips.

“It will be nice to see her at the next meeting if you want to bring her.” He said not bothering to take in Grantaire’s response or expression at that. He just grabbed his jacket and left as quickly as he possibly could.

When Enjolras made his way home it was somewhere around six. He was exhausted which was strange because Combeferre and Joly generally tended to harangue him for not sleeping as much as he should but after spending most of the day with Belle and Grantaire and by extension Feuilly and Jehan and Courfeyrac, he just wanted to take a nap. He hadn’t taken a nap since primary school.

He wondered if his tiredness was physical, emotional, or both because at the moment he was frustrated with himself, he was frustrated with Grantaire and he was frustrated with Bahorel for even starting the conversation.  He thought about what Grantaire said Bahorel told him and Bahorel did have a point, he supposed. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he respected _all_ parents, some parents were entirely undeserving of respect, but he did tend to be more lenient towards people who seemed like good parents. He wondered why that was different with Grantaire.  Everyone seemed to think that he held Grantaire to different standards than he did most other people which simply wasn’t true.

He felt gravel in his eyes and he wasn’t even sure why he was so tired. Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Jehan spent more time running about than he did. Remembering that however, did nothing to make him feel any less tired.

Combeferre was sitting on the sofa reading through one of his psychology textbooks when he came in. He looked up at Enjolras with a smile when he saw until he took in his stony expression.

“I’m just going to go out on a limb here and assume that today’s goal didn’t really go too well.”

“Yeah well that’s the thing you see,” Enjolras said with a sigh dropping down on the sofa next to him and burrowing himself in the softness of the cushions. “It _was_ going well until it wasn’t.”

Combeferre nodded silently and started to rub his back soothingly. Enjolras leaned into him and heaved a sigh. Combeferre stroked Enjolras hair gently and his eyes returned to his textbook leaving Enjolras alone with his thoughts like they usually did when Enjolras felt this defeated, but Enjolras wasn’t really in the mood to think.

Instead he fell asleep just like that, with Combeferre’s hand in his hair and his head resting on the arm of the couch.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Grantaire had an argument with someone he stewed, because- and he understood that this wasn’t a good trait of his- he knew how to hold a fucking grudge. So the fact that it was only one day after and he was currently standing in front of Enjolras’ door shifting awkwardly and trying to find a reason to explain to his daughter that he was too much of a coward to knock was enough to make him want to go hide under a rock in the face of his eminent humiliation.

When Grantaire had an argument with someone he stewed, because- and he understood that this wasn’t a good trait of his- he knew how to hold a fucking grudge. So the fact that it was only one day after and he was currently standing in front of Enjolras’ door shifting awkwardly and trying to find a reason to explain to his daughter that he was too much of a coward to knock was enough to make him want to go hide under a rock in the face of his eminent humiliation. Still, Belle was looking up at him with her big eyes filled with wonder and he can’t help but remember last night when she’d scolded him for fighting with Enjolras and her eyes were filled with disappointment instead of awe so Grantaire knocked two shorts raps and hoped to God that Enjolras was a normal college student who slept until after noon on Sundays.

Hope, as always, remained futile. Combeferre opened the door within a minute and Grantaire was forced to stand there and smile with Belle’s hand in his.

Combeferre raised a brow at Belle but didn’t say anything else which was just perfect. So it was already awkward.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Is Enjolras in?”

Combeferre nodded at that and opened the door wider ushering them both inside. Belle had gone silent like she had when she’d first met Enjolras. She was much better at meeting new groups of people as opposed to meeting a singular, new person. Grantaire had that in common with her.

They both walked inside the flat and Grantaire wasn’t surprised at the size, especially given the part of town they were in. Bahorel _did_ describe them as rich kids and he obviously wasn’t wrong.

The lounge room alone was the size of Grantaire’s entire flat and then some. The light in the room was beautiful, probably thanks to the roof to floor window with the open blinds.

It was much untidier than Grantaire’d expected however. There were books scattered around the room, on the couch, on the floor, an empty mug on top of a pile of textbooks on the coffee table. There was a sweater draped across the couch, shoes left discarded on the floor. It wasn’t that bad, Grantaire’s seen much worse, but for some reason he’d expected Enjolras and Combeferre to be neat freaks. He was glad to be wrong. There were few habits that were more annoying to Grantaire. 

“Do you want some water or some juice?” Combeferre asked, the perfect host and Grantaire refused. He shrugged and led them to the black sofa in the middle of the room, pushing aside the clutter. Grantaire sat down and lifted Belle on his lap.

Belle tugged at his shirt sleeve and looked up at him in confusion. Oh right.

“This is Combeferre, Uncle Enjolras’ roommate. He’s friends with Uncle Bahorel, Uncle Feuilly, Uncle Courfeyrac _and_ Uncle Jehan too.” Grantaire added because if anything that would make him fall in her favour that much sooner.

She grinned up at him and Grantaire just loved being right. Combeferre’s face softened and he smiled back at her. Grantaire didn’t believe it when Courfeyrac said that Combeferre was a secret softie but he can at times admit when he was wrong.

“Hello Belle,” Combeferre said with a tiny smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

So apparently Enjolras already told Combeferre about her. Grantaire was sure that he would have anyway. He would have needed someone to vent about how rude Grantaire is and Combeferre was the best person for the job.

Belle smiled shyly. “Nice to meet you too.”

“He’s in his room,” Combeferre looked up at Grantaire, his eyes scrutinising. Grantaire shifted slightly under his gaze. “I’ll see if I can go get him if you want.”

Grantaire nodded and Combeferre was off. He disappeared down a hall and he heard a knock and some mumbling.

“Is this where Unca Enjas lives?” Belle asked in a tiny voice. Grantaire sighed. He really needed to get her out more. He was falling down on the job when it came that. She always felt nervous in new environments. Nothing like Aiden who adjusted to change with the blink of an eye. He hated comparing Belle to other people’s kids but in all honesty he was just making shit up as he went along. He liked to think he was faring well but sometimes he still felt like he knew nothing about raising children and he could help but feeling like he was two steps behind every other parent.

“Uh huh.” Grantaire said, tickling her sides. She relaxed a little and giggled as Grantaire smiled at her. “He lives here with his best friend in the whole wide world.”

“His best friend like Aiden’s my best friend?” Belle asked curiously.

“Exactly like that.” Grantaire responded.

“Does that mean I’m going to live with Aiden when I’m a grown up?” Belle asked and she looked delighted at the prospect.

Grantaire was thankfully saved from answering the question when Enjolras walked into the lounge room with a confused frown. Grantaire looked up when he came in and Enjolras cocked a single brow. Combeferre didn’t have the sense to stay in his room, so he was trailing after Enjolras. (Probably for security reasons because Enjolras whined to him about that _fucking asshole, Grantaire_ all night yesterday.) At least that was what Grantaire did with Eponine. He wished he didn’t because Belle overhearing him recount the situation was what made her so determined to make Grantaire apologise.

Belle jumped off of Grantaire’s lap and came to stand in front of Enjolras.

He was wearing a pair of jeans and a red and white striped sweater. Jesus. Was this what he wore at home? This was casual for him? Grantaire’s stained, holey sweats sitting on his bed waiting for him to get back home, paled in comparison. Enjolras’ hair was falling in his face and it wasn’t even messy, just artfully tousled.

 “Hello Belle.” Enjolras said, thankfully not in that irritating, sugary sweet voice that most adults tend to adopt around children. “It’s nice to see you too. What are you guys doing here?”

“Papa was a butthead yesterday,” Belle said seriously, craning her neck to look up at Enjolras. His eyes widened at that and he quirked his lips. Grantaire heard a slight cough and glanced at Combeferre who looked amused. “And he wants to say he’s sorry for his buttheadedness.”

“What did I say about swearing Belle?” Grantaire scolded half heartedly as he shrunk into the couch.

“Don’t do it in front of other people,” she supplied helpfully. Combeferre didn’t quite manage to turn his laugh into a cough this time so it kind of ended up sounding like a very severe wheeze.

“That’s my girl,” Grantaire chuckled weakly.

Enjolras looked at Grantaire with an inscrutable expression. “Is she telling the truth?”

Grantaire wanted to be evasive and say, “People _are_ very anal about kids cursing,” but Belle was looking at him and Enjolras was looking at him like they expected something and as good at being a disappointment as Grantaire was, he never wanted to be that to his kid so he sighed and stood up.

“Yes she is,” he forced a smile, looked Enjolras square in the face and gritted out. “I am very sorry for being rude to you. I should know better than to be so impolite to someone I welcomed into my flat.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and yeah okay, Grantaire _was_ actually aware of how stilted he sounded. Grantaire pointedly didn’t look at Combeferre this time. Belle, thank the heavens, didn’t seem to notice. She was beaming at Grantaire like he was doing a good job which was a welcome change from the petulant stares he was getting that morning.

“Well now that we’ve cleared that up,” Grantaire said. “We should just-”

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about day care. Combeferre can watch Belle if that’s okay with you.” Enjolras said with a sweet smile and Grantaire could see through that to the poison underneath it.

“Belle,” Grantaire looked at Belle questioningly and she shrugged.

“S’okay Unca Enjas. You guys can go. I like to hug people after I make up with them too,” she looked at him earnestly.

“That is definitely not-”

“We’ll go hug in the hall.” Grantaire said pushing Enjolras lightly.

Enjolras strode out and Grantaire followed after him dragging his feet. The hall in their building, unlike Grantaire’s, was clean. It looked like it was just mopped. Grantaire didn’t exactly live in a slum but their landlord wasn’t very keen on hiring cleaners. He doubted the man even knew what a broom looked like.

“Aren’t you going to hug me then?” Grantaire quipped, tilting his head as he looked at Enjolras.

Grantaire heard Belle giggle from inside and he turned around to wave at her. Enjolras waved too albeit a lot more unenthusiastically than Grantaire did. Enjolras stepped closer to the door and set his alarmingly fixed gaze on Grantaire.

“So,” Enjolras said, shutting the door behind him. “You’re sorry for being an ass.”

“Not exactly,” Grantaire replied truthfully. “But I can’t exactly teach my kid about being kind to people and tolerance and all that jazz if I don’t pretend to follow that example myself. Hypocrisy is a very important part of parenthood.”

Enjolras’ forehead crinkled and Grantaire couldn’t help but feeling strange about it. Marble isn’t supposed to wrinkle so easily, like paper. He itched to smooth it out with his hands but he folded his arms in place of that.

“I suppose it’s not exactly like I was a shining beacon of pleasantness either yesterday.” Enjolras said finally.

“True.”

“I’m not going to apologise about it.”

“I guess we’re on the same page about that.”

“I agree with everything I said.” Enjolras said firmly.

“I agree with everything I said too,” Grantaire said, his hands falling to his sides. “So what exactly are we doing right now Enjolras?”

“I know why children should think that apologising after an argument is important but I just wanted you to understand,” Enjolras said looking at him resolutely.

Grantaire never noticed what a perfect shade of blue Enjolras’ eyes were. Blue? That was probably the wrong word. It was navy if anything. Cerulean maybe? Darker than most shades. The light of his hair and the dark of his eyes were a strange and beautiful contrast. The sun against the dusky sky.

Grantaire cleared his throat when he realised he’d been staring and the silence had been going on for longer than he thought. “I get it. Healthy arguments are good for the soul.”

“So we’re...good then?” Enjolras asked, looking unsure for the first time during this conversation.

“Yeah,” Grantaire shook his head and smiled, much more genuinely this time. “We’re great. I promise.”

Enjolras looked pleased by that for some reason. He placed his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder and Grantaire wasn’t sure what face he was making. He tried not to look the way he felt as Enjolras’ body heat pierced through his shirt. His vice grip almost burned and Grantaire wondered if he committed every touch like that. With absolute purpose. Grantaire was confused. He felt as if he were ready to crawl out of his skin and make a home in Enjolras’ and run as far away from the man as he could at the same time. It was ridiculous. It was awful. It was perfect.

It was- fuck. It was just a fucking touch. What was wrong with him?

Grantaire shrugged out of Enjolras’ hold. The strength of the moment for Grantaire embarrassed him. Especially since he knew that Enjolras was just trying to be a friend to him. He was perving out a shoulder touch. It was discomforting.

“Are we going back in then?” Grantaire asked. Avoidance. That was a good idea.

 Avoidance was something he was very good at. So he was going to avoid the way Enjolras’ looked at his hand as if it did something wrong. He avoided the hurt look on the man’s face that he schooled back into a mask indifference. He avoided the way he thought about those things as if he knew Enjolras. Grantaire didn’t even know him. He met him months ago and became friends with his friends. He knew nothing about the man except the way he sounded as he ministered to his loyal followers. The way his voice echoed across a room and almost blazed with white hot fervour.

“Actually I wanted to ask you something,” Enjolras said. At the inclination of Grantaire’s head he went on. “We all usually have breakfast at a pub called the Corinthe every Thursday morning. You can come by if that’s something you’d be interested in. I’m not sure if it is, but if you want to come by one morning...”

“I’ll -um- think about it.” Grantaire said, not quite saying yes and not quite saying no. He’ll probably talk to Bahorel first before making any decision about it.

Enjolras nodded like he expected that response and they headed back inside. They opened the door to find Belle and Combeferre sitting on the floor with their legs folded as Combeferre was in the middle of explaining the most basic definition of human rights to her. It was actually kind of charming.

“It’s like if you have a bunch of people at your tea party,” Combeferre was saying carefully. “And they’re all sitting at different levels. What do you think will happen if one person can’t reach their tea?”

“Then they won’t get any,” Belle said looking horrified. She paused and was lost in thought as Grantaire looked on in amusement. Enjolras joined them on the floor as if he was just as interested in what Combeferre was saying as Belle was. Then, from Belle came a look of dawning realisation. “What if I give it to them?”

“That _would_ be helpful,” Combeferre acquiesced. “But if you’re at a tea party, won’t you want to be able to have the option of getting the tea yourself?”

Belle nodded. Her hair was in a ponytail so none of it fell in her face when she flopped her head back and forth. “What if I just gave them all chairs that are the same height?”

“That would be better,” Combeferre said, nodding at her as she preened. Belle didn’t even notice Combeferre nudging Enjolras and giving him a significant look but Grantaire did and his brow furrowed at that. “What do you think Enjolras?”

“That’s just a band aid. It sounds like it would be a form of liberation but...I mean,” Enjolras looked thrown for a moment before composing himself as he noticed everyone’s attention on him. “Everyone at the... tea party, should have... chairs that... suit their height?” Enjolras punctuated.

It was strange seeing Enjolras so lost but Grantaire secretly enjoyed it.

“What does that mean?” she asked. Enjolras looked at Combeferre helplessly and Combeferre shook his head.

Grantaire folded his arms and leaned against the closed door as he slowly got it. Combeferre was trying to make Enjolras get used to talking _with_ children and not just around them.

“Everyone should be able to get their tea with ease right?” Enjolras asked slowly as Combeferre and Belle nodded along. “Which means that shorter people should have higher chairs, so they wouldn’t _have_ to choose between being thirsty or asking the taller people for help but the taller people should have _lower_ chairs so they wouldn’t tower over the short people and make them feel small. The chairs shouldn’t all be the same height. They should suit who’s sitting on them.”

“Oh.” Belle said, drawing out the word. “I get it. Does that mean I have to use all different chairs next time we have tea Papa?”

“Well my feet would probably cramp and I don’t want you high enough that you could hurt yourself if you fall but-” Grantaire hurried when he noticed Combeferre shaking his head and Enjolras staring at him. “We could have tea with me on the floor and you on the settee next time okay.”

Belle clapped excitedly. “Are you going to tell me and Unca E about sociatrism now?”

Enjolras head turned towards Combeferre, who was looking properly abashed, with a question in his eyes.

“No we’re leaving,” Grantaire said with a wry smile, only just resisting from rolling his eyes. “Before I look away for a minute and you two have my kid overthrowing the damn government.” 

“Feel free to come over any time.” Enjolras said still looking at Combeferre, amusement creeping into his gaze.

*

By the time they were back at their apartment building, Belle was chattering about Combeferre in a lively manner. Grantaire got to hear all about how she now gets to call him ‘Unca Ferre’ and that he thought shortening Enjolras’ name to Unca E was a good idea since it was giving her so much trouble and the way he praised her when she suggested it. It wasn’t that Grantaire didn’t want to hear everything that she was saying, because he very much did, but he was a little distracted by the sound of Marius Pontmercy stuttering in front of his apartment door, holding Angelette in one arm and a diaper bag in the other while he gazed at Cosette longingly.

Actually he was even more distracted by the fact that Cosette, who was standing in front of her open door, was gazing back.

“Cosette,” Grantaire whined when he neared them. “I told you to hold off on the whole motherhood thing.”

Her cheeks went pink and Marius eyes widened. Cosette rushed back into her flat, shutting the door and Grantaire was lost. Marius didn’t seem disturbed though, even with the whole affectionate gazing thing that they were just doing.

Marius turned his beam on Grantaire.

“Grantaire!” he seemed delighted to see him which was never a good sign in Grantaire’s book. When Grantaire’s friends were happy to see him he generally got a punch in the arm and a ‘Hey asshole’ so Marius’ straightforwardness left a lot to be desired.

 “Hey Belle.” Marius smiled down at her.

“Marius.” Grantaire nodded. Belle ran into Marius and threw her arms around his knees. She wasn’t as good at staying aloof as Grantaire was, the poor thing, and in any case Marius was rolling his eyes at Grantaire’s tone. Some people just don’t appreciate effort.

Grantaire took out his key, unlocked the door and led the three of them inside.

Marius sat on the settee with Belle and Angelette. Belle was peering at Marius’ sister with a wide grin. Angelette was cooing softly (Marius was getting much better at dealing with her) and Belle looked fascinated by it. Belle had taken a shine to her since they first met. She was so used to being the youngest kid around. Grantaire thought that she was more happy to be rid of the title than anything.

“Cosette is coming over in a minute or two,” Marius said offhandedly which, well that was nice to know. “She was cooking when she heard my voice when I was calling out to you and opened the door to tell me you were out. And then we saw each other. Grantaire she’s so magnificent. Oh why didn’t you tell me you knew Cosette?”

Grantaire was sitting on the armchair and looking at Marius uncomprehendingly. 

“I’m sorry? My mistake?” Grantaire said, baffled as to why he would. “I mean I do know quite a few people. Should I have told you about Combeferre too? What about Jehan or Courfeyrac or that pleasant bloke who gives me the finger on my way to work every morning? Oh and of course there’s J-”

“You know Courfeyrac?” Marius asked, cutting him off with bright eyes. He almost jolted until he remembered that Angelette was in his arms and he settled back down.

“ _You_ know Courfeyrac?”             

“He’s the one who got me the flat I first lived in when I was on my own with Angie here. He was on good terms with the landlord. He was really nice to me when I lived there. Helpful. I moved a while after and we fell out of touch, but I owe him a lot.”

Grantaire briefly thought about inviting Marius to a meeting but he had no idea if he was the political type. In any case he’d still do it before Marius leaves. At least that way he could still meet with Courfeyrac and catch up.

“Angie?”  Belle cooed, focussing on the part of the conversation that made the most sense to her. “That’s cute.”

“Yeah. Eponine picked it. She thinks it’s a good nickname for her and I agree.”

“Wait, can we go back to Cosette?” Grantaire interrupted them.

 “I told you all about her a few days ago.”

“Yeah see, that didn’t happen.” 

“Sure it did!” Marius said, bewildered. “I told you how she’d burst into my life like the music of angels-”

“The light of the sun,” Grantaire finished with a groan. “I remember.”

Marius’ lovelorn pontificating about the beautiful stranger was about _Cosette_. This was ridiculous.

Marius sighed dreamily and even worse, Grantaire was going to have to deal with _this_ at work every day.

“You didn’t even know her name that day by the way but I guess at this point I feel like I should give you a list of everyone I’ve ever come into contact with, just in case they’re someone you’ve been looking for.”

“I think you should actually,” Marius retorted with a grin.

Belle’s head started to loll on Marius’ arm and Grantaire looked at her critically.

“Lunch and then naptime for you,” Grantaire said after assessment.

“But Papa!” Belle whined with a frown. “I’m _not_ even that tired!”

“No arguments.” Grantaire said, not very convincingly but no one else had to deal with how much time and effort it took to put her down for a nap so they can’t judge him for his reluctance, or they could but they’ll damn well do it silently.

“Come on.” Grantaire said standing up.

Belle frowned and crossed her arms petulantly. Grantaire closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Belle stop being so difficult and go to the kitchen,” Grantaire said in the sternest voice he could muster when it comes to her. “Now.”

Belle glared at him and stomped off to the kitchen leaving Marius staring after her with wide eyes. Grantaire wished it wasn’t so hard for him to be like that with her. It reminded him of his own childhood and how harsh his own father was when it came to him and his sister. He remembered the bruises and the yelling and the crying and the way he used to cower before the man, but this wasn’t the same. It definitely wasn’t. He could be strict with her when it was for her own good right? Should he be stricter than he already wasn’t? Should he even be at all? Grantaire was a shit authoritarian. He was so bloody indecisive about everything. This just all reminded him of how inadequate he was as a parent. How inadequate he was as a person.

“Is- um is Angie going to get like that?” Marius asked and he looked a little terrified.

Belle’s terrible two’s were supposed to be almost over and Grantaire hadn’t been seeing any end in sight so he wasn’t sure how good he was at giving advice about this. Although to be fair, Belle was a lot less difficult than she was a few months ago back when Grantaire was about just as irritable as she was and even more stressed than he was now. 

“Probably, probably not. Who knows?” he said with a grimace. “Let Cosette in when she comes okay, and you should probably put Angelette down if she hasn’t napped for the afternoon yet. Belle’s old crib is still in my bedroom.”

Grantaire, Bahorel and Eponine had all set up their kids’ old cots in their bedrooms when it became clear that Angelette was fussy more often than not and the easiest way to get her to stop crying was to rock her. Really, it was for mainly their own benefits.

Belle was still pouting when Grantaire entered the kitchen. She was sitting on the floor with her legs folded and her arms crossed glaring at the floor as if it had offended her. Grantaire winced. She was wearing her white shorts and it’s almost impossible to get stains out of that thing.

He lifted her up and she was no help with that, making herself as heavy as possible, and put her on her chair.

“What do you want for lunch?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Grantaire asked, his voice taking on a tone of nonchalance. “Not even a croque monsieur?”

She perked up for a moment and then suddenly she frowned again as if she’d just remembered that she was mad at him. Well apparently Grantaire had no chance of winning this one.

Still, he went to the fridge and took out the ham and cheese. He tried making conversation as he toasted the bread and melted the cheese but her responses were monosyllabic. Even when he started talking about maternelle and letting her sleepover at Bahorel’s next weekend so she and Aiden could do their G rated scary movie night. I mean, she wasn’t even three yet. What does she even know about scary movies? What’s the point of a G rated scary movie anyway? Still, Grantaire _can_ bend.

She only stopped pouting when he put the sandwich in front of her and gave her her sippy cup with apple juice.

Putting her down after that was even more difficult. She clung to him every time he tried to lay her on her bed and she refused to close her eyes until Grantaire sang to her. That macabre lullaby, _Alouette_.

By the time she was finally snoozing, Grantaire was ready for a nap himself. Instead of indulging however, he returned to the living room to find Cosette and Marius clucking over each other, Angelette nowhere in sight. Grantaire headed into his room briefly to set an eye on her and then went back into the living room to third wheel.

Cosette turned away from Marius the second time Grantaire entered the lounge room and smiled brightly. “I’m so glad you’re my neighbour Grantaire, you wouldn’t believe.”

“Oh trust me, I believe. I _am_ incredibly charming.” Grantaire said with a smile when he took his place in the armchair again. He looked at their joined hands. “Is your father going to murder me for this? He already doesn’t like me.”

“Oh he likes you just fine.” Cosette said with a wave of the hand as if her absurdly intimidating father was nothing. “And he’ll love Marius. He’ll adore him if he has any sense.”

“Anyone who loves you can hate me with all their heart,” Marius replied, absolutely besotted. “It would be impossible for me to dislike anyone with such good taste.”

“Jesus Christ.” Grantaire looked at them with a sigh.

 His phone set off a series of buzzes and he looked away from the lovebirds for a second to take a look.

**Enjolras [1:58PM]:** i got your number off of jehan.

**Enjolras [1:58PM]:** we were discussing a venture and the benefits of letting children express their creativity in a structured environment came up.

**Enjolras [1:59PM]:** it reminded of what you told me about belle and letting her be free to express herself?

**Enjolras [1:59PM]:** i’m sorry this was silly.

**Enjolras [2:00PM]:** maybe you could discuss it with jehan next thursday though.

**Enjolras [2:00PM]:** i’d really like to get your insights on it.

Enjolras rambled in text. For some reason Grantaire found it charming. He paused and thought about what he should say before shooting back a text.

**Grantaire [2:03PM]:** if u want 2 get /my/ insights u should b the 1 2 tlk 2 me about it shouldn’t u????

**Enjolras [2:05PM]:** that’s the most appalling thing i’ve ever read.

**Grantaire [2:05PM]:** haters are my motivators

“Grantaire...” Cosette was looking at him questioningly because he was grinning at his phone like an idiot.

“Um,” Grantaire cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

Cosette looked at him wickedly. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked in a sing-song voice.

“No.”

“A boyfriend?” Marius asked.

“Shut up.” Grantaire sniffed delicately. “And no.”

“Uh huh.” Cosette said shaking her head. “Sure you don’t.”

“Are you two together already?” Grantaire asked trying to change the subject. “I mean you only just met each other five seconds ago.”

It was a good mood changer because their teasing suddenly turned into nervous coughing and averted eyes. Grantaire almost wanted to step in and say they didn’t actually _have_ to figure that out right this second but he was a coward and he didn’t want to go back to the previous topic. He was already irritated at himself when it came to the weird, almost magnetic pull Enjolras had on him, he didn’t need to actually stop and _think_ about it. Actually if the choice were his, he’d never think about it.

Cosette artfully changed the topic and air in the room suddenly became easier to breathe. Grantaire looked at his phone again and Enjolras responded.

**Enjolras [2:06PM]:** you must have a constant source of motivation then.

**Enjolras [2:06PM]:** good on you.

Grantaire huffed and responded with a sarcastic rejoinder and that was how it went for the next two hours. Cosette and Marius talked and Grantaire joined in whenever the topic interested him but mainly he focussed on his conversation with Enjolras.

It was a weirdly interesting conversation because Enjolras kept talking about nurturing kids’ creativity from an academic and more psychological standpoint when Grantaire could only really speak from experience. Enjolras didn’t seem too put off by that fortunately. In fact he encouraged Grantaire to talk about Belle and how much more confident she felt when drawing and how he praised her art and was enthusiastic about her developing the skills she had.

Marius and Cosette didn’t tease him again when they caught him smiling or snorting because, well glass houses and everything, but Cosette did send him occasional smirks whenever he joined in their conversation a second to late after pausing for a minute to grin or roll his eyes at his phone.

Everything came to a halt when Angelette started wailing and Marius jumped off the couch with the diaper bag and ran to her. The noise in turn woke Belle and Grantaire had to go get up and deal with _her_.

Cosette was surprisingly good with Angelette for someone who had no siblings but Grantaire didn’t question it. As long as he wasn’t the one who had to change Angelette, he was fine. Marius was lucky though. Grantaire had no idea how long those two would last, or if they’d even last at all, but finding someone who was good with children. Someone who actually liked children at their ages? It was like a dream come true. If Grantaire was ever going to risk wishing, he’d wish for someone like that.

*

Grantaire didn’t join them for breakfast that week, but then again Enjolras really didn’t expect him to. They’ve been texting each other, on and off, since Sunday and it was oddly pleasant.

It was still fragile of course, their budding friendship. He tried to be more careful with his words, not willing to let their delicate balance break under any kind of strain and most of the time he found himself asking Combeferre if he was being too harsh or too critical with his words before sending off a message. Combeferre was endlessly amused but Enjolras much preferred this wary peace than the ignoring or avoiding each other and irate bickering with a man he had to see and be civil to _every week_.

He and Grantaire didn’t exactly get off to the best start. His first impression of the man was obviously wrong (and his second impression and third impression...) and hastily made. He misjudged him. Grantaire was apparently a lot more focussed than he initially thought. And he _did_ care apparently. He had to care to raise a child as well mannered and thoughtful as Belle. Especially since he had done it all on his own. And he still managed to find time to read classical literature and political text and sketch and have a side job all while he held down steady employment and raised a child on his own.

Enjolras could barely imagine it and he’d seen it with his own eyes. Grantaire had more than earned his respect.

Even if Grantaire didn’t come to breakfast, Enjolras still wanted to talk to him about joining up with Feuilly and Jehan to teach arts to children at the community centre on evenings. If he was amenable of course. God knows if he’d even have the time. Enjolras had been hinting about it for the entire week now but he wasn’t sure if Grantaire had caught on.

He didn’t get the chance to discuss it when Grantaire came (before time for once). A sundry number of people accompanied him as he entered and Enjolras raised a brow at that. He walked over to welcome the group. Combeferre, Jehan and Enjolras were the only ones there setting up, the rest of the group should arrive soon and everyone else would come somewhere around half an hour later.

Grantaire smiled at him when he neared and Enjolras returned it easily.

“It’s good to see you.” Enjolras said looking curiously at everyone surrounding him.

“Likewise,” Grantaire replied. It took Enjolras looking at everyone next to him pointedly and coughing for him to catch on. “Oh! Well you know Belle.” He did. She waved at him and smiled sweetly. “And Aiden of course,” he pointed at Bahorel’s son standing next to Belle. “I just picked them up from maternelle. And this is Gavroche,” he pointed to a little, blonde haired, mischievous looking boy who was staring up at him owlishly, “The little runt’s with me for the day. And this is Marius and his sister, Angelette” Grantaire gestured to a tall, freckly faced man who was holding an infant in his arms. The man grimaced at Enjolras nervously and Enjolras wasn’t sure if he was trying to smile or not. In any case,

“Welcome. We’re always glad to see new members.” Enjolras said diplomatically. “You guys can help Grantaire set up day care although I’m sure he has no idea how.”

“Oh shut up,” Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I know where everything goes. We’re good.”

Enjolras waved them all off as Grantaire led them to the backroom and he joined Combeferre and Jehan to the front of the room. Combeferre was sitting behind the long table and Jehan was standing opposite the table, in front of him.

“There’s going to be a much smaller crowd this week,” Combeferre was saying. “We’re at that time of the year when it’s important for parents to get more involved with PTA’s and other parent-teacher groups. Remember last year?”

Jehan wrinkled his nose. “You mean when we our discourse was well used on almost empty rooms.”

“Maybe we should start on that program I’ve been talking to you all about?” Enjolras said.

“It’s a good idea,” Combeferre agreed. “But we can’t really go about implementing it until we get the necessary people involved.”

“A free after school arts program will need quite a bit of money,” Jehan said, his face twisting in a scowl. “We definitely don’t have the wherewithal, even combined and I wouldn’t feel too good asking M. Valjean for all of it.”

“How _much_ money exactly?” Combeferre asked looking behind them for a brief moment.

“Well there’s money for the materials, paints, paper, crayons, colour pencils, charcoal for the more adventurous kids,” Combeferre started writing as Jehan listed everything off. “And then there’re the musical instruments. I have my flute and Courfeyrac has his...voice I suppose but we’d probably need a guitar and a piano and people who play them. You play piano right Enjolras? We’ll need money to hire people. There _are_ people who would volunteer of course, but as helpful as volunteers are they’re fickle and Enjolras wanted to ask Grantaire and Feuilly which means that we’d _have_ to pay them. I mean Feuilly works after school and Grantaire has a daughter that we’d be asking him to spend even more time away from. It’d be pretty shitty of us to ask them to sacrifice their time and paycheques without compensating them for it.”

“I’d offer to do it for free but I know you’d all just refuse.”

Combeferre, who was facing the door, was the only one who didn’t jump when Feuilly spoke from behind them. When Enjolras turned around he noticed that Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta and Bahorel were already there and setting up chairs behind them.

“My God Feuilly!” Jehan exclaimed, holding his hand over his chest.

“Sorry.”

“Are you really?”

“Not particularly.”

“ _Anyway_ we have to bring it up with the group.” Enjolras interrupted as he looked out at them. “Everyone agreed this morning but we didn’t cover expenses just yet. Fundraiser’s are time consuming.”

“But it _is_ for a good cause.” Combeferre supplemented.

“Yes it is.” Feuilly said seriously. “Working class parents who work shifts can’t _afford_ babysitters most of the time far less au pairs. It gives their kids something to do in a safe environment. Something educational which is what would really interest most parents.”

“We can get Bossuet, Courfeyrac and I to start writing letters asking for donations but this needs to be planned extensively before, and worded just right. Companies don’t like to give to small organizations because it does nothing for their names.”

“Jehan’s right.” Combeferre said. “I’ll start working on a spreadsheet tonight.”

“We _could_ target the smaller companies though. Do some research and see who has a history of fondness for educators and the arts.” Feuilly suggested.

Enjolras smiled. Feuilly has always been better at critical thinking than the rest of them. He was used to having to think on his feet growing up the way he did and his ideas almost always worked. He was an extraordinarily useful person to have around and Enjolras said as much.

“I don’t think we should sign off M. Valjean just yet though.” Feuilly said, sparing a smile for Enjolras. “We don’t have to ask him to fund the entire project but we could ask for a donation from him to. He’s a philanthropist with a soft spot for children. He’ll definitely help.”

Their conversation was cut short as a few more people started filing in and as Combeferre predicted, the crowd was sparse. For the first time in months there were more college students than parents. That didn’t stop them however. They would speak to a crowd of ten or a hundred. It doesn’t matter. As long as their message was being heard by someone, they were doing their job right.

*

Courfeyrac showed up halfway through the meeting with a grimace and a quick apology. Combeferre was talking about budget cuts to the small crowd and somehow he found a way to make it a topic that doesn’t make you want to tear your hair out in the way that only Combeferre could. Enjolras didn’t bother even pretending to be irritated by Courfeyrac’s tardiness because of how rare it was for him. He just nodded as Courfeyrac sat next to him in the front row.

Meetings like these tended to drag on, especially since less people around meant fewer questions so they got through the itinerary faster than usual.

By the time they were done, it wasn’t even five yet.

The room was mostly cleared out but Combeferre, Courfeyrac and he stuck around to talk with the stragglers while Feuilly, Bahorel and Jehan started packing away.

When the last person left, taking their child with them, Enjolras felt a hand on his shoulder. Combeferre smiled at him and said, “I’m going to help the guys finish packing up. Maybe you should bring up what we talked about earlier with Grantaire?”

Enjolras folded the last few chairs before leaving to follow Combeferre’s advice.

When Enjolras actually made his way to the back, Bossuet and Joly were loudly bemoaning the fact that they found out about Belle last while Musichetta rolled her eyes at her boyfriends fondly. Gavroche and Aiden were frowning at each other while Belle sat on her father’s lap. She sat eerily still and Enjolras noticed it was because she was trying not to dislodge Marius’ sister who was apparently sleeping in Grantaire’s arms. Marius was standing behind the chair Grantaire was sitting on and looking at Joly and Bossuet’s grumbling with amusement.

Courfeyrac followed Enjolras in the room but he was still paused by the door when Enjolras had already made his way over to the group. Enjolras frowned and he was about to turn back around and ask him what the problem was when Courfeyrac breathed out,

“Marius?”

The freckly faced boy that Grantaire introduced him to earlier was looking at Courfeyrac with wide eyes.

“Courfeyrac!” and that was all it took apparently. Courfeyrac ran into Marius and tumbled into his arms.

“I missed you you idiot!” Courfeyrac was saying, but his arms wrapped around the man and the smile on his face and betrayed his lack or irritation. “You could have called me.”

“I lost my phone.” Marius said sadly.

“That’s no excuse. It’s never an excuse.” Courfeyrac argued. He untangled himself from Marius and dragged him to the corner of the room and out of listening range.

“Well that was dramatic,” Bossuet said conversationally.

“Yeah it was,” Grantaire shifted slightly so as not to wake up the child in his arms. “I didn’t expect it to be so dramatic.”

“It’s boring you mean,” Gavroche pouted down at his hand that Aiden was holding apologetically. “My finger isn’t bleeding anymore.”

He sounded dejected by that for some reason.

“Good,” Grantaire replied. “Now I don’t have to go find you a band aid.”

“I don’t need a band aid!” Gavroche moped. “S’just a paper cut.”

“Yes you do!” Joly admonished. He tutted at Gavroche’s fingers as he took a hold of them. “People have lost _limbs_ from paper cuts.” 

“I’m pretty sure they haven’t.” Grantaire muttered.

“WHAT?” Aiden’s eyes filled with tears and Musichetta held his hand before the waterworks came on fully.

“Come let me take you to your Papa little one.”

Musichetta threw a glare behind her as she led Aiden away, Bossuet following close behind her. Joly flushed silently and cleared his throat. Enjolras wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of that argument when the three of them reach home.

“People can lose a limb from _just_ a paper cut?” Gavroche eyes widened and his mouth curved up into a smile, completely ignoring Aiden’s fading cries. Enjolras wished he could say that he wasn’t terrified by the complete glee in the boy’s eyes but he would be lying. Joly perked up, seemingly pleased by that response and even more so by his follow up questions. “What else can you lose a limb from?”

“How about I tell you while I get you a plaster and some antiseptic?” Joly asked. Gavroche nodded eagerly at the prospect at hearing more. When Enjolras was a child he was really interested in equal rights for humans and monsters so he supposed that he really couldn’t judge but he wouldn’t trust that kid around a wooden knife.

“Belle you can sit and colour if you like.” Grantaire said as Gavroche bounded off with Joly. Enjolras barely noticed Belle’s squeal as he stared at Grantaire but the man seemed unconcerned.

“So you’re just cool with that?”

“Joly’s good people. It’s not like he’s going to kill Gav.”

“I was talking about the fact that _Gav_ seems to be a psychopath in training but okay.”

“Enjolras don’t _ever_ let him hear you say that.” Grantaire shook his head with a grin. “He’d be far too pleased.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Enjolras said. “It’s not certain yet, but we’ve just started planning something.”

Grantaire was busy keeping his eye on Belle, holding Angelette in his arms and occasionally glancing to the corner where Marius and Courfeyrac were smiling at each other and chatting enthusiastically but he looked at Enjolras for a moment before turning away again.

Enjolras took that as an agreement that he was listening so he started explaining the project to Grantaire, purposefully leaving out the financial uncertainty and just explaining the basics.

When he was finished talking, Grantaire’s eyes were on his and he looked at him thoughtfully.

“Jesus. As much as I need the money I’d feel like a hypocrite teaching kids to paint,” Grantaire frowned. “I can’t remember the last time I even picked up a paint brush.”

“You paint anymore?” Enjolras asked. “How come? I saw the walls on your flat.”

“It’s...difficult I guess. Even if I had the time, oil paints are dangerous to leave around children and I can’t afford studio time. The only time I have free is every other weekend and most evenings and I spend that time with Belle. I mean of course I wish I could still paint but I don’t want to become the invisible man who pays for my kid’s things but never has the time to see her y’know.”

Belle smiled up at the two from where she was colouring on the floor and Enjolras felt like he understood in some way. But as Grantaire said, he needed the money. Belle could come along, Grantaire already said that she loved expressing her creativity as much as she could and Enjolras already had proof that Grantaire was good with children.

All he had to do was convince Grantaire that he’d be a good fit for the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise it won’t take me two months to update this again. i got a little...stuck. there should be a few more chapters after this one, i have them all planned out for the most part. i just have to write them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire was certain he knew the reason Enjolras came to see him today. It was because of the stupid workshop thing and it wasn’t that Grantaire didn’t want to do it. He just had other things to worry about. And he had no time for anything that could be fun. He didn’t have the time for anything that didn’t directly benefit Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions past drug/alchol addiction. not in great detail.

Marius was bouncier than ever the day after at work, not that Marius was ever really a bouncy sort of person. He was more prone to daydreams and soft melancholy sighs. Today was different. Grantaire supposed the guy really did have a lot to be happy for. He met a cute girl (Grantaire refused to call Cosette the love of Marius’ life okay, they’re just going to have to deal with that) and he reunited with a guy he used to be close with. After everything he’d had to cope with for the past few years, Grantaire thought that this amount of happiness was much deserved and he really _was_ happy for him.

Truthfully though, he’d be much happier if Marius would shut up about it just for five seconds, but he wasn’t exactly going to  _say_  that to the kid. Grantaire may be a miserable bastard with a headache that he got from staying up half the night with Belle when she had a fretful sleep, but he wasn’t heartless. So he let Marius yammer on and on about the way the sun caught Cosette’s hair and how excited he was for Cosette and Courfeyrac to meet and how great it was that Angie took to Cosette so fast. Grantaire can, on occasion, be charitable. He considered it his one good deed for the day.

That was, until Cosette came to see Marius on his lunch break and started grilling him about the blonde dude Marius said  _he spent all evening talking to at the meeting yesterday_. Grantaire was suddenly feeling less charitable. And it wasn’t even true. He spent like 20-25% of his time talking to Enjolras yesterday because when he went to a meeting, he actually did his damn job.

Marius was a bastard and a traitor.

“Stop being melodramatic.” Cosette rolled her eyes. She was sitting on the chair by the door with her legs folded, shooting Marius small smiles as she talked to Grantaire. “I’m here for the dish not to listen to you angst.”

“I  _don’t_  angst.” Grantaire huffed. He wished this store was a busier store. How could Mabeuf even afford to pay them anyway? They had so little business. But that was a question for another day because today was the day Cosette chose to rag on him like the little sister he never asked for.

“You just called Marius a bastard and a traitor.” Cosette said wryly. “I don’t know mate. That sounds very afternoon soap opera.”

“Do you watch  _many_  soaps Cosette?” Grantaire asked, raising his brow.

Cosette’s cheeks tinged pink and Marius looked besotted. Grantaire wanted to groan but at this point he knew that it was because he was as jealous of them as much as he was sickened.

“My Papa watches them,” Cosette mumbled. “They’re very good actually.”

“I watched a telenovela once.” Marius said, defending his- what the hell were they anyway. “It was very interesting.”

Cosette beamed before shooting Grantaire an ugly look. “Let’s get back to the topic of your boyfriend.”

“If I had a boyfriend then maybe we could talk about him.” Grantaire replied. “But I don’t.”

“I- um- I didn’t actually say they were boyfriends.” Marius interjected, guiltily.

“I surmised darling,” Cosette tilted her head to the side fondly.

“Darling,” Marius repeated with a soft smile. “I like the ring of that.”

And because Grantaire was very skilled at changing the topic when needed (pick a topic, any topic), he said,

“So when do  _you_  plan on putting a ring on it Marius? You remember what Beyonce said of course. Who are you to ignore her austere advice?”

Marius spluttered and Cosette shot him a look that said “ _We’re not done talking about this_.”

In Grantaire’s opinion, they were.

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to say about Enjolras anyway. He hadn’t talked to him since the day before. And they were just friends. It was that simple.

*

Enjolras was busy. Les Amis started pitching fundraising ideas that weekend. Courfeyrac thought that a bake sale would be a bust given that none of them are particularly good at baking except Feuilly and Bahorel and they were both equally as busy. (“Also we’re French,” Joly said, wrinkling his nose. “We’d know bad pastry when we taste it). Combeferre suggested a walkathon but Bossuet, Joly, Musichetta, Courfeyrac, Feuilly and pretty much every last one of their un-athletic members vetoed it.

“Do we want to make money or are we trying to scare people away?” Courfeyrac said, running his hand through his hair. “Sweat is so not attractive.”

“Speak for yourself.” Combeferre replied, folding his arms. “Do you have a better idea?”

Needless to say, they were not doing too well on the fundraising front. Enjolras was just about another argument on  _are we too old to make a lemonade stand or not?_ from giving up the ghost and just asking M. Valjean to fund them, but Enjolras did have his principles. He wasn’t about to bleed a man dry for this, even if it was for a good cause.

On the brighter side of things, they had almost everything else sorted out. Feuilly had wholeheartedly agreed to teach simple crafts to the children. Courfeyrac had a great singing voice, even if he did use it to sing Ke$ha loudly in bad English, and he said yes to singing with the children. Jehan said he’d do story telling for any child who was interested and Musichetta and Bossuet would help him with the costumes and sound effects. Combeferre and Joly planned on dealing with the administrative aspect of the project and they’d already gotten most of the parents who came to their meetings to send their children to them while they were at PTA. Bahorel said that Grantaire taught him how to play the guitar when they were younger and he had no problem teaching kids how to play and Enjolras really  _was_  good at the piano. It was all shaping up very nicely.

Except for one thing.

 

Grantaire came to breakfast with them the next week for the first time and Enjolras was thrilled. He walked in with Bahorel and he glanced at Enjolras with a smile before sitting next to Feuilly and opposite Jehan. Everyone had already ordered by the time the two had reached which meant that someone had to go to the counter to put their orders in.

“Grantaire and I will do it.” Enjolras volunteered quickly when Combeferre mentioned it. Grantaire peered at him suspiciously but he nodded and followed Enjolras to the counter.

“Have you thought about my offer?” Enjolras asked, interested. “We’ve finally worked out a payment plan.”

“Jesus, you don’t give up do you?” Grantaire looked at him incredulously.

“I’m not really in the habit of it, no.” Enjolras replied, rapping on the counter. Musichetta saw him and rolled her eyes with an indulgent smile.

Grantaire ordered for him and Bahorel easily and Musichetta asked (read: told) them to wait there to help her carry the food.

“Bahorel got me a gig last week as a bouncer at a club that just opened up.” Grantaire said. “Night shift. So I really don’t have the time.”

“You came to the meeting last week.” Enjolras said, thrown off. His forehead wrinkling as he thought of it. “If you have another job you shouldn’t...”

“Okay so maybe it’s an every other weekend sort of gig.” Grantaire relented. “Jesus. Why are you so difficult? Most people would have just congratulated me on the new job and given up.”

“I’m not most people.” Enjolras shrugged.

“Trust me. I know that.” Grantaire sighed, and he continued on before Enjolras could stop him and ask what the hell that was supposed to mean. “I stand by my reasons for not wanting to do your workshop thing though.”

“It’s a free after school arts program,” Enjolras corrected. “And I already said that I don’t give up.”

“And I’m not as easy as you think I am.” Grantaire drawled idly while they waited for Musichetta to come back.

“I’m fine with that too.” Enjolras shrugged. “That just means I get to work extra harder to convince you.”

Grantaire shook his head, a smile widening on his face. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m not as unfortunate as Bossuet.” Enjolras said primly. “I’ll have you know that the fates generally tend to work in my favour more often than not. You’ll see.”

Grantaire laughed in amazement and his Adam’s apple bobbed with each chuckle. Enjolras looked at the movement for far much longer than he was willing to admit before Musichetta cleared her throat, interrupting his gazing with a smirk.

“Are we ready to head over now boys?”

Enjolras tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “Of course we are.”

Over two weeks passed and Enjolras still hadn’t been able to convince Grantaire that he’d be a good fit for the job. Grantaire was so talented and he could  _use_  that talent to help other people. He’d be brilliant at it if he gave it a chance. Enjolras knew that he was reluctant over  _something_  other than not wanting to neglect Belle. He saw it in Grantaire’s eyes every time he brushed off the subject. Enjolras asked Bahorel about it and Bahorel told him,

“If you want to open that can of worms, I won’t stop you but the consequences are yours and yours alone mate.”

That stopped Enjolras in his tracks for a bit. He tried to think about what he knew about Grantaire. It wasn’t much when it got down to it. He knew Grantaire was a recovering addict. He knew that he had a child. He knew that Belle’s mother died some time ago, via Bahorel. He knew that Grantaire had a lot of tattoos and a few interesting piercings. He knew that he dropped out of high school. He really didn’t know that much and he didn’t want to overstep. If the responsibility was something that would upset Grantaire enough to have unforeseen  _consequences_ , then it probably wasn’t something Enjolras wanted to bring up.

Still, Enjolras was never one to back down from a challenge. 

Combeferre didn’t try to talk him out of it which he usually did when Enjolras had a bad idea, but he did urge him to be cautious.

“You and Grantaire just got in a place where you don’t ignore or bicker with each other,” Combeferre said Saturday morning as he poured their coffee. “You shouldn’t push this hard if you know it will ruin that.”

Enjolras grimaced as he took a sip. Most other coffees have begun to pale in comparison to the tiny, humble coffeeshop under Grantaire’s apartment building.

“I’m not going to push.” Enjolras said. “But I don’t think he’s saying no for the right reason. If he was I’d let it go.”

“Just remember to be careful,” Combeferre said tiredly. “You know how you get.”

“It’ll be fine,” Enjolras said with a huff. “I promise.”

He ended up at Grantaire’s flat that Saturday mid-morning and it was a full house when he arrived. Grantaire opened the door before he even knocked and Bahorel, Marius, and three girls Enjolras had never seen before were scattered across the room. Belle, Gavroche and Aiden were running about Grantaire’s living room and it was chaotic enough that Enjolras briefly toyed with the idea of walking away from the frazzled, curly haired man who was staring at him with a wry grin, without saying a word and going back home.

Grantaire was less than shocked to see him when he opened the door but he looked somewhat grateful. He smiled at him ruefully.

“How did you know we were having a party?”

“I didn’t?” Enjolras replied, shuffling slightly on his doorstep.

“Funnily enough, neither did I.” Grantaire blinked at him before narrowing his eyes. “Why  _are_  you here then?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” Grantaire asked, evenly.

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Were you on your way out?” asked Enjolras, changing the subject quickly.

“As a matter of fact, we all were.” Grantaire said, still looking at him warily.

“I’ll come with you guys then.” Enjolras said quickly. This wasn’t the plan but he wasn’t willing to pass up the opportunity.

“If you want,” said Grantaire, a suspiciously amused grin unfurling on his face. “But I don’t think you’ll like it very much.”

*

Grantaire looked across at Enjolras and he was glad to see that he was right. The man’s lip was curled with distaste but he was trying his hardest not to show it. He wasn’t really doing a good job of it. Marius and Cosette had stayed behind with Angelette and Enjolras looked like he desperately wanted to return to them.

“Dude, maybe becoming a lecturer would be the best bet for you,” Grantaire said, not unkindly.

Enjolras still shot him a glare before turning back to look at the playground warily. “It’s not that I don’t  _like_  children. I do. They just...terrify me sometimes.”

“Oh try again.” Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Belle doesn’t terrify you. Aiden doesn’t terrify you. Gavroche...well no you seemed a little terrified by him but my point remains.”

“That’s different.” Enjolras shook his head.

“How so?” Grantaire asked. He was looking out at Belle who was being pushed on the swings by Azelma from where he sat on the bench next to Enjolras as he spoke.

“I know them.” Enjolras protested.

“I wasn’t there when you first met Aiden but you didn’t seem all that terrified when you met Belle.” Grantaire said calmly. Enjolras looked a little less defensive, so Grantaire continued “I mean you did have a sort of flighty look in your eyes but you didn’t  _know_  her then.”

Enjolras paused and Grantaire looked at him as he thought things through. “Let me rephrase then. I’m not terrified of children individually, but as a whole...they’re daunting creatures.”

Grantaire’s eyes were wide as he looked at the blonde haired man. Did he really just call children  _creatures_? Yeah he wasn’t- no he wasn’t going to even address that one. But-

“So what you’re saying is that you’re terrified by the idea of children and you psych yourself out about it but when it comes to actual children you’re cool with them.”

“I- well that’s apt.” Enjolras said.

They sat in relative silence for a while, because well, a playground never really is  _silent_  until Enjolras looked at him again and Grantaire sighed. He wasn’t focusing on Enjolras. He was focusing on the tiny bundle of energy running towards them.

“What?” Enjolras asked.

“Belle’s coming over,” Grantaire said and he knew that that wouldn’t explain anything to Enjolras but- “And if she’s coming to  _me_  by the  _benches_  when we’re at the playground, it means one thing and one thing only.”

“Ice-cream!” She yelled, jumping on his lap and Enjolras, the asshole, looked amused at his suffering.

“We haven’t had lunch yet Belle.” Grantaire said firmly.

“But Papa, I want ice-cream.” Belle said, with a pout. She perked up slightly. “How ‘bout ice-cream for lunch?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea ducky.” Grantaire replied, trying to hold his ground which was a mistake because Belle’s lips started to wobble and Grantaire’s never been able to refuse her when she cried and this was about to get ugly very fast.

“Well I guess-”

“You can have ice-cream for desert.” Enjolras interrupted him, shooting Grantaire a strange look before continuing to look at Belle steadily. “But we’ll get you something to eat first okay.”

Belle grumbled but she shrugged her acquiescence as she scrambled to the floor and ran back over to Azelma most likely to inform her.

“Thanks for that.” Grantaire sighed as he stood up and dusted his jeans off.

“It’s nothing.” Enjolras shrugged. “I know a thing or two about stubborn kids given that I was one. I just got you two to compromise.”

Enjolras smiled a little and Grantaire wanted to squeeze his shoulder or his knee or  _something_ in thanks. Instead he took Enjolras’ hand and pulled him to a stand. Enjolras huffed, but he let himself be led over to Eponine and the rest of them.

“Who’s coming to the crêperie at the corner with us?” Grantaire asked, sure that Belle had already informed them all that they were going to get something to eat.

“You go with your boyfriend,” said Eponine, her eyes filled with mirth. “I’m taking those two home.”

Eponine looked at his and Enjolras’ joined hands pointedly. Grantaire tugged his hand out of Enjolras’ grip and coughed lightly, avoiding looking at the man, his throat tight.

“Are you coming then?” he turned to Bahorel, who was looking just as entertained.

“I think I am. This will be hilarious. I want to be there to watch.” Bahorel said, amused. He was looking at Enjolras who had wandered off to where Aiden and Belle were holding hands by the monkey bars and talking to Gavroche with sad looks on their faces.

“I hope you choke on whatever creamy monstrosity you buy when we get there.” Grantaire replied, conversationally and he ignored Bahorel’s and Eponine responding guffaws.

Belle was grinning at Enjolras when she saw him approaching and Grantaire sighed wistfully. Enjolras was good with Belle and it pissed Grantaire off a little. He wasn’t supposed to be good with her. It made liking him all the more better and all the more worse. Because Belle liked him back. And that meant that Grantaire wanted Enjolras to stay around for her. And when he weighed the pros and cons of Belle’s happiness and his own, Belle won every time.

The group of them parted from Eponine, Azelma and Gavroche by the restaurant.

It was a small place and the scent of cinnamon and baked goods permeated the air.

They found a table with a booth. Enjolras squeezed in next to Belle and Aiden and Bahorel and Grantaire sat opposite them.

It wasn’t the kind of place that had waiters so Bahorel and Enjolras went to the counter to order, leaving Grantaire with the kids. Belle and Aiden weren’t paying any attention to him of course. They were busy talking about some superhero or the other. Grantaire had lost track when it came to those two honestly. Luckily for him, neither of them was actually all that interested in involving him in their conversation.

By the time Enjolras and Bahorel were back, laden with enough galletes to feed them all and small bowls of ice-cream for Belle and Aiden, Grantaire was happy for the company. Even with Bahorel’s teasing, there was nothing _hilarious_ or embarrassing about their conversations. Enjolras and Bahorel were discussing their fundraising ideas while Aiden and Belle continued to chatter on while they ate, occasionally heeding Grantaire’s warning of talking and chewing. It was nice and Grantaire was having fun.

Grantaire knew he liked Enjolras. He wasn’t in the habit of denying his feelings and he knew how he felt. But Belle liked Enjolras too and Grantaire wasn’t about to ruin whatever budding friendship they had and eventually make it so that he and Enjolras couldn’t be in the same room together without it being awkward. Grantaire wasn’t good at relationships. He’d proven that a long time ago.

When they were ready to leave, Enjolras offered to walk back with him and Belle and Grantaire knew a rat when he smelt one. He agreed anyway. It would at least be humorous to let Enjolras try to convince him to do his workshop thingy for the hundredth time.

The walk to his flat was short and Grantaire wasn’t quite sure what was happening. Enjolras’ and his shoulders brushed together often. Belle was dozing on his chest as he held her and they were quiet so as not to wake her up.

When they finally got upstairs he lay Belle down on the loveseat and draped a blanket over her. She sniffed and curled in on herself a little but made no other movement to show she was waking up.

Grantaire turned to Enjolras who was sitting on the couch and looking at him silently.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re still here? Or better yet, why you came to see me today in the first place?”

Grantaire was certain he knew the reason Enjolras came to see him today. It was because of the stupid workshop thing and it wasn’t that Grantaire didn’t want to do it. He just had other things to worry about. And he had no time for anything that could be fun. He didn’t have the time for anything that didn’t directly benefit Belle to be honest. He just wished Enjolras would stop dangling the carrot in front of his face. He was already having a hard enough tome resisting from snapping at it like he was starved. Enjolras wasn’t making it very easy for him to resist.

A blush was rising on Enjolras’ pale cheeks and Grantaire knew he got it right. Still, it was fun to tease him.

“Is it perhaps to harass a hapless young man with talks of workshops and underprivileged youth when he clearly has better things to be concerned with?”

Enjolras glared at him balefully with that. “You are impossible.”

“You’re talking about yourself surely.” Grantaire said, teasingly.

Enjolras seemed to understand his tone and he huffed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So I’ve been told.” Grantaire inclined his head with a shrug before sitting next to Enjolras.

They sat in silence for a while, both of them looking over at Belle who was breathing softly as she slept.

“If you really don’t want to, I understand.” Enjolras said after a while. “But for what it’s worth I think you’d be good at it. You’re good with children. They listen to you.”

Grantaire turned to face Enjolras, folding his legs below him on the couch, with a scowl. “Don’t say that okay.”

“Why not?” Enjolras asked, frowning. “I’m not saying anything but the truth.”

“I get what you’re think you’re doing and all but all you’re really doing is trying to puff me up so I’ll say yes and I understand the impulse but false flattery doesn’t really get to me. No offense, but I tend to not fall for it so you don’t have to-”

Grantaire was cut off when Enjolras kissed him and um- wow. His lips were soft against Grantaire’s and Grantaire hadn’t kissed anyone in so long. He wasn’t exactly celibate, but he didn’t bother with simple niceties like kissing. He’d almost forgotten what it was like. What it was like to have someone’s supple lips move with yours. To have the tip of your tongue dart out and trace the contours of someone’s lips. To have someone moan in response and deepen the kiss. And this was- this was real. This wasn’t a fantasy or a dream. This was Grantaire, sitting in his living room with Belle sleeping opposite them. This was Enjolras. And this was Enjolras kissing him. This was Enjolras making the active decision to put his lips on Grantaire like Grantaire was someone who could ever be worthy of something like this. Grantaire wrenched his mouth away with a gasp and glanced over at Belle quickly, to make sure they didn’t wake her up.

They didn’t, luckily. Enjolras was looking at him curiously though. His eyes dark and hungry and it was intoxicating. Grantaire wanted to get lost in it and that was why he knew he shouldn’t. He sighed,

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Enjolras’ usually clear voice was husky for a change and Grantaire did that. His red lips and his slightly messy hair (when did Grantaire’s hands even reach there), Grantaire did all of that. He should be pleased. If this were anyone else he’d be pleased. But this was Enjolras and Enjolras deserved better.

“I can’t do this. Any of this. The art. You. Anything. I can’t.” Grantaire said desperately.

“Okay I- can you tell me why?” asked Enjolras, his voice firm and unyielding.

Grantaire laughed, because he really didn’t understand did he? There was a reason why he didn’t date. Grantaire didn’t deserve this. Any of this. And he was going to have to explain that to Enjolras and it sucked.

*

“Belle’s mum was lovely you know.” Grantaire said idly and Enjolras started, fighting the sudden knot in his throat. He dropped his hands to his side and looked at Grantaire curiously.

He didn’t really think when he practically attacked Grantaire. He didn’t think about if that was something Grantaire even wanted. He didn’t think at all truthfully. Better yet, Enjolras didn’t think to ask about Belle’s mother. She could be someone Grantaire wasn’t quite over yet? Why didn’t he think of that? Why didn’t he think of anything?

“She was my friend. Our relationship was new when I knocked her up, but we loved each other. We weren’t  _in_  love or anything like that but I did love her. We’d been friends for a long time.”

Grantaire laughed then and Enjolras wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond so he didn’t. Enjolras let him talk without interrupting. It sounded like something Grantaire needed to say. “I’m making it sound like a fairytale aren’t I? It wasn’t. She was a drug addict,” he said bluntly. “Heroin. I was always soaked in some rum or whiskey or wine or the other. We fucked a lot. Sometimes without protection which was stupid but we were young and high. Stupid is kind of a given isn’t it? The only reason we stayed together for so long was because we were very good at each other’s being enabler.” 

Grantaire rubbed his hand across his forehead and Enjolras looked at him as he spoke. Grantaire wasn’t very good at hiding his feelings Enjolras realised. They were writ plain across his face, and he looked troubled.

“Go on.” Enjolras said, as lightly as he could.

“We weren’t even together when she told me she was knocked up. We broke up about a month before and then she came knocking on my door to tell me she was three months pregnant. I did the asshole thing of course. The whole  _is it even mine_  bit,” he put on an affected accent as he mocked himself. “She was. I knew it the minute I first saw her. She still looks like me. I was just being hateful at the time. Floreal broke my nose for it actually.”

“She sounds charming.” Enjolras said, a small smile growing on his face.

“She was,” Grantaire replied. Enjolras gripped his knee firmly. He’d never been able to see the point in soft touches as comfort. “She quit you know? Way before I did. When she found out she was pregnant. She went cold turkey. I thought she was going to lose the baby once or twice, she was shivering so bad. She slipped up a few times, but she was always good at getting back on the horse.”

“How did she die?” Enjolras asked. 

“On the operating table.” Grantaire replied brusquely, his voice gruff. “The delivery was difficult and it was too much for her body to take. I never even got to say goodbye. And then I had Belle and I had to do everything on my own. It was terrifying.”

Enjolras looked across at Belle who was snoozing on the loveseat, with a blanket carefully placed over her. She didn’t look anything like a child who had this sort of beginning. She looked loved and well cared for.

“So you understand right?” Grantaire asked. “Why I can’t do it?”

He really didn’t and when he said as much Grantaire huffed a sigh.

“Belle deserves everything.” Grantaire said easily. “I know I spoil her and I know I’m too soft on her, but she deserves absolutely everything that I can give her. And if that means sacrificing what I love for it, then so be it.”

Enjolras stared at him. This definitely wasn’t as easy as Grantaire was trying to make it sound. He can’t just give up his art as a form of penance for having a troubled past. Not without some serious resentment issues down the road. Enjolras was living with a psychiatrist in training, he knew these things.

“You can’t be a martyr Grantaire,” Enjolras said, his voice more severe than he wished it was. “It’s not good for you and it definitely isn’t good for her.”

“Just because I chose to tell you this doesn’t mean that you can butt in with your unasked opinions thanks.” Grantaire snapped, suddenly abrasive

“Fine,” Enjolras shrugged. “Don’t talk about it then. Continue to teach your daughter that denying the things that make her happy is a good thing. By all means, normalise self-flagellation. It’s not like that doesn’t cause emotional issues down the line.”

“You’re so out of order right now.” Grantaire hissed and he looked like he wanted to punch Enjolras but Enjolras refused to stop. Not when he knew he was right. They were so close to each other that he could punch him, or kiss him, or both but Enjolras continued.

“Maybe I am, but am I saying anything that’s wrong?” Enjolras hissed right back. “Kids aren’t as stupid as a lot of people make them out to be. Even if she doesn’t notice now, she will eventually notice that you’re not happy. And that isn’t going to be good for her and you know it. You know that I’m right. If you want more for her then you have to want more for yourself.”

“You are such a self righteous little know it all pri- um you’re buzzing.”

Enjolras jolted in his seat slightly, the tension and anger dissipating. He didn’t even notice. He took his phone out quickly and looked down at it. He had ten missed calls. Three from Combeferre, seven from Courfeyrac. When he looked up, Grantaire was looking at him, his face a blank mask. Nthing of his previous tone showing on his visage.

Enjolras cleared his throat, “My friends worry sometimes.”

Grantaire nodded seriously. He hesitated before leaning forward and kissing him once again, chastely and softly this time before pulling away with a confused look, as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing. “You should go then.”

Enjolras nodded carefully. He felt like he was getting whiplash when it came to Grantaire. He didn’t want to act as if Grantaire was a deer, easily spooked but he didn’t want to scare him away either. He didn’t even think about it as he stood up. He walked over to Belle and brushed back the hair that was falling in her face a little before turning back to Grantaire. Grantaire was still looking at him blankly and Enjolras sighed. He nodded and said,

“Thanks for having me,” It was cordial and impersonal and nothing that revealed the intimacy of before but Grantaire nodded all the same and walked him to the door.

“Just give me a while to think about this okay?” Grantaire said more than he asked and Enjolras nodded. He breathed heavily as Grantaire closed the door.

This wasn’t exactly Enjolras’ first rodeo but it also wasn’t something he did often. Blind fumblings in broom closets at school and one night stands he never saw again could hardly compare to this. It felt different somehow and Enjolras couldn’t stop touching his lips during the entire walk to the metro.

When Enjolras reached home, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were already there with almost identical grins on their faces.

“Why weren’t you answering you absolute ass? Valjean’s in.” Courfeyrac said animatedly, almost thrumming with excitement. “I emailed him because fuck you all if you think we could seriously raise all that money on our own. Like seriously dude. We’re not superheroes. Jesus. And for the second part-”

“He said he’d match whatever we make up with our fundraiser.” Combeferre interrupted coolly, although his smile was just as excitable. “It’s a compromise.”

“Speaking of, have we settled on an idea yet?”

                                                                                                       *

Enjolras didn’t see Grantaire for the week and he almost didn’t even notice given how hard he and the rest of his friends were working on their project. He was exhausted.

His mornings were the worst. He had the best roommate and Enjolras loved Combeferre, don’t get him wrong, he was his best friend. But being woken up at two in the morning to discuss the philosophical contrast between innate talents versus learned creativity wasn’t really something he was fond of sometimes. Or at all really. Combeferre would apologise every morning before going back to bed and the next morning he’d be at it again. It was more than a little frustrating.

Valjean deciding to help them out some made Enjolras breathe a little bit easier but he might be starting to lose it. School projects, Les Amis meetings, planning different fundraisers, extending their lease on the room in the community centre, it was beginning to take its toll on him.

By the next week’s meeting, Enjolras falling asleep on himself. They were at the point where there were only ten or twelve people at their meeting, all college aged students, and Enjolras was grateful. He let Combeferre take over while he closed his eyes and snoozed on the chair in the back row.

It was nice. The faint bustle of voices made it so easy for him to drift off. He wasn’t actually sleeping, the rise and fall of noise kept it so that he was slightly conscious but he felt a moment away from rest. It was frustrating. He had no idea how long he sat there like that, his head lolling on his shoulder but a hand on his arm made him jump.

“Is the meeting over?” he mumbled, sleepily. He straightened up and looked to his side only to see Grantaire sitting next to him, his eyes full of concern. Enjolras slumped back down in his seat and tried not to close his eyes again.

“Jesus,” Grantaire’s eyes were wide. “You look dead on your feet.”

Grantaire was close enough to him that he could probably count the stubble on his chin. Even better he could reach out and kiss him. He resisted, just barely. He and Grantaire barely talked all week. He doesn’t even know what they’re doing and Grantaire had a kid. A daughter who surely doesn’t know about this and that’s-

“Where’s Belle?” he asked and he could hear the sleep in his voice.

Grantaire smiled at that. “She and Gav are harassing Joly and Combeferre. Aiden’s feeling a little left out because he’s not as into blood and mayhem as they are but Courfeyrac’s keeping him distracted.”

Grantaire nodded to the centre of the room where Courfeyrac had Aiden on his shoulders and was spinning around wildly while the boy giggled. He could admit that it was slightly adorable and- wait.

“Blood and mayhem?” he asked incredulously.

“Child friendly blood and mayhem.” Grantaire said diplomatically before grinning. “They’re just telling them some stories from med school. Nothing that will give them nightmares or I’ll be forced to murder them both in their sleep.”

“Lovely.” Enjolras quipped, stifling a yawn.

“You try dealing with Belle the morning after she has a nightmare.” Grantaire’s tone was pleasant and his smile, sharp. “God and all his angels won’t be enough to help you.”

He sounded serious but Enjolras still rolled his eyes. He remembered when he used to have nightmares as a child. He didn’t remember it that well, but certainly Grantaire was exaggerating.

“You didn’t answer my question though.” Grantaire continued.

“You didn’t ask one.” Enjolras replied.

“Logistics.” Grantaire huffed. “But seriously why do you look so tired?”

What could he say? He was exhausted? He was but that sounded so vague. He was stressed? He was a college student, of course he was stressed. He was feeling overburdened? Grantaire was a single parent, Enjolras was pretty sure Grantaire had him beat there.

“It’s...been a rough week.” Enjolras settled on finally.

“Are you still stressing over your workshop thing?”

Enjolras didn’t have it in him to correct Grantaire but it was a free after school arts program damn it.

“Yeah well, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire nodded.

They were silent as they looked about the room together. Belle was climbing all over Combeferre’s back. Gavroche was tugging on Joly’s shirt and shooting a glare at Musichetta who was looking at him with raised eyebrows. Bahorel, Jehan and Feuilly were discussing something, their heads pressed together. Courfeyrac was still playing with Aiden, but now they were both on the ground and in a serious game of wills to see who will blink first. Enjolras liked looking at his friends like this. So happy. It made him feel warm inside.

He glanced at Grantaire who was looking at everyone with a sort of fondness on his face. It was weird how well he fit in with the group. Everyone loved him and Enjolras never really stopped to think about it but he loved them all back. Enjolras had no idea how Grantaire, or Bahorel for that matter, had the time to be social and to be so good at it when they had more important things to worry about. Enjolras was good at multi tasking of course. But there was always a point where he got like this. Exhausted, overwhelmed, burnt out. It didn’t seem like either of them ever felt like that.

“You’re very strange do you know that?” Enjolras said a few moments later.

Grantaire looked at him oddly before knocking their arms together. “Right back ‘atcha.”

“I meant that as a compliment so I’ll take it as one in return.”

Grantaire snorted and Enjolras wasn’t quite able to stifle his yawn this time.

“You’re really running yourself ragged with this aren’t you?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras was torn between replying  _“of course I am”_  and  _“isn’t it obvious”_  when Grantaire continued talking.

“I guess,” Grantaire started slowly. “I mean if it will help you. I’ll do the thing.”

“The thing?” Enjolras asked, knowing what he meant but wanting to be sure.

“The thing.” Grantaire repeated, frustrated. “The art thing. Don’t be a pedantic asshole about it. I’ll do your art shit.”

Enjolras’ face broke out into a grin and he could tell that Grantaire was actively fighting back his smile.

“This is going to be great.”

“It better be.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not very happy with this chapter, but i just needed to get this part out of the way. at least it wasn't a _two_ month wait this time.
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://ladytaire.tumblr.com/) now

**Author's Note:**

> for reference:  
> Enjolras, Eponine, Cosette and Jehan are all 20, Courfeyrac, Combeferre Joly, Feuilly, Marius and Grantaire are all 21 and Bossuet, Bahorel and Musichetta are all 24
> 
> The title is from the great Vicy Hugs himself
> 
> "Nothing discernible to the eye of the spirit is more brilliant or obscure than man; nothing is more formidable, complex, mysterious, and infinite. There is a prospect greater than the sea, and it is the sky; there is a prospect greater than the sky, and it is the human soul."


End file.
